Broken Belts
by CheeriosAreSquare
Summary: Beginning in season 3 and based on a comment Brock made in "The Big Fix-Up" -Episode 3x19 when he was talking to Van about calling both Reba and Barbra Jean when he wanted to buy a belt. Reba stops by the mall to help him pick out a belt.
1. Chapter 1

"Hullo?" The familiar huff of voice didn't even cross Brock's mind as anything unfamiliar. He was busy examining the leather belt for purchase, checking for the price tag. Reba had finally picked up after three consecutive calls.

"Reba," He greeted her, before stating out the reason he had called, "I'm buying a belt."

There was a pause on the line and Brock pressed his cell phone closer to his ear over the Muzak playing throughout the store.

"That's the reason you're calling?" She finally replied, not satisfied with the amount of attitude she spoke with. Was this a joke? Reba lowered her head as her eyes flicked for any sign of Eugene coming out of his office.

"Uh, yea," He furrowed his brows in confusion, waiting for her to elaborate.

"Brock," She was muttering, "I'm in the middle of work."

"Henry broke off the buckle," He tried to explain until she interrupted him.

"I don't care, Brock! Go call your wife!" And he could hear the dial tone on the phone as he sighed. He slammed the cover of his phone shut as he tilted his head as if that would give him a better perspective of the belt. And he sighed again.

It wasn't the first time ever since the divorce he had run to Reba before Barbra Jean and while he waved if off as habit, Brock Hart was certain that the action meant something much more dear to him. Three years should have been enough to cut anything he called habit. Then again, it wasn't like he had ever crawled into his ex-wife's bed so he decided to push the matter off his head, letting himself get distracted by some golfing gloves.

Reba Hart was sitting in the parking lot of the local outlet mall, her hands on the steering wheel. They tapped and tapped, as her mind pondered whether she should step out of her car. She bit her lip, catching her done-with-work reflection in the mirror with more doubts filling her mind.

Her fists were clenched, arms were crossed when she had found herself walking into the outlet mall. She found her ex-husband in the lotion shop, walking around the displays of scented creams with skepticism written all over his face.

"Reba," He croaked out when she appeared in front of him. She smoothed the front of her dress shirt. There was something about his face, he looked different. Perhaps it was the soft glow of the sample candles around him but Reba noticed a tiredness in his eyes, the dark shades he was wearing. Something was definitely off with her usually casual and relaxed Brock Hart.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," Where did the apology come from? "You know Eugene, he's this close to firing me."

"No, I'm sorry I called you. It was stupid of me." Brock waved it off, taking her arm and leading her out of the store.

"You said something about a...belt?" Reba tried to start off the conversation as he nodded. She gulped before treating him to a optimistic Reba smile, "Well, come on."

It was the same store in the same little corner of the outlet mall the two were walking toward, at an amicable distance and starting a conversation that ended with no jarring jokes or hurtful comments.

"Besides Barbra Jean trying to set me up with her grandpa, all is well." Reba shrugged, sensing the stress of her work day slipping away from her, energized with a conversation with Brock, "What's up with you?"

He chuckled with sincerity and for the first time since he was diagnosed as depressed, he felt strangely at ease.

"Reba, I got something I need to tell you-" He stopped himself. No one knew about the fact his therapist was suggesting he take anti-depressants. He stopped in the middle of walking, pausing to stare into her expectant eyes. She looked so beautiful to him at that moment, a slight pout on her red lips and a little more make up than he was used to on her eyes. Reba's red hair was out of place, as if pushed out of her face too many times, and the way she was standing as if she was oblivious to how much men were leering at her, not that Brock felt he should care. He was mentally shaking his head when he replied a reply different than the one he was going to give her, "Thanks for coming, it means a lot to me."

Reba blew a raspberry at him, amusement twinkling in those blue eyes. Choosing a belt for him meant a lot to him? She turned her gaze to the store window, catching sight of some heavily discounted store.

"You want to look?" Brock was almost whispering and she jolted around when she felt his fingers near her elbow.

"No, I don't," She was shaking her head, laughing out, "Van and Cheyenne are gonna roll Jake up in a tortilla if I'm not there to make 'em dinner."

"We'll buy pizza home." Brock suggested with a shrug, pushing her into the store as she protested with laughter.

Another thing she would have to give a second thought some other thought. Reba and Brock walked out of the store with two bags full of new clothes that were Brock-approved, seeing as he was carrying the bags in his arms. It looked as if shopping with Brock was as fun as it was when they were married and both of them were mute on how happy they felt in each other's company.

"There goes my month's salary," Reba sarcastically retorted, trying to keep up with Brock.

"I told you, it's on me." Brock felt she deserved it, and besides, he had enjoyed seeing her model off the clothes for him. Especially the black sleeveless dress that hugged all the curves she hid under zip up jackets and sweaters.

"Brock-"

"Honey," He clamped his mouth shut but decided to continue talking in hopes that she did not notice his inappropriate terms of endearments, "I don't see any problem with a woman like you buying herself some new clothes."

"A woman like me?" Her accent twanged in his ears so beautifully like a country ballad. Boy oh boy, what a woman.

"You know, Reba," He ran his hands up from the back of his neck.

"No, I don't." She had arms folded, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. And she knew quite well he sensed that, he always did. And without hesitation, he began with a stern expression. They were walking by some handbag stores and someone was trying to give out free samples of a protein shake.

"You're beautiful, Reba."

"No, I'm not." The words came out as an incredulous scoff. She wasn't about to give him a glare and slap because he was surely joking with her.

"Yes you are." He fought back. He only had to look away from her once before he dragged her into a jewelry store. The metaphors came out of his cheesy mouth so easily because it was true, " You're like these diamonds. Beautiful, sparkly, loyal-"

"Loyal?"

"Yes, loyal, and most of all, you're solid. You're the real deal. You're-"

"Shut it!" Her cheeks were turning red, slamming her hands over his lips. An employee was walking over.

"Looking for anything in particular?" The short salesperson leaned over the counter at what Brock was pointing at and jumping up in excitement when he was comparing her to a wedding ring. How ironic.

"Can you tell this perfect _woman_ she's beautiful?" Brock was gesturing at Reba as if he were the salesman.

"Unfortunately, I'm only liable to compliment customers," He let out a laugh, flapping his arms in the air. Brock took Reba's hand in his and rocked it at a comfortably nice pace.

"You have a good eye. Brock would never buy me anything from stores like this," Reba rested her elbows on the glass counter as she and the employee shared a good laugh.

"I do have a good eye, I believe." The salesperson was nodding, turning his head to Brock in an arupt motion, "Your wife is really something."

"I'm not-" The redhead was just about to correct him over the use of the word, wife.

"She's _everything_ to me." Reba gasped at Brock's bold words, watching him engage with the salesperson clad in a blue uniform in conversation, "Reba's my best friend."

Reba shook her head, snatching the plastic bags from his arms and storming out the store, tears threatening her eyes. He followed her out with a confused expression on his face and when she was looking up at his face, so concerned and so entrancingly close to her own, she could feel her heartbeat accelerate. Her eyes closed and she half-wished his lips were against hers again. But she wasn't going to give him the chance. She wasn't about to show him how vulnerable she could be.

"Reba," His voice was low in his throat, quiet.

"I have to go." She was blinking back the tears.

"Reba, I meant everything I said. You are everything to me." Brock wanted to hold her in his arms and show her that instead of saying it.

Reba nodded her head once.

She was everything to him but there was one thing she was not.

"Except I'm not your wife." The sad smile on her face as she inched away from him was enough to break his heart. Reba shook her head, wondering if she had done give up on using sarcasm to hide her feelings. Though as much as his words had lingered in her mind, she wasn't the one who was in charge of choosing leather belts for his pants. She folded her arms again, the bags rustling on her arm and before she walked away, she gave him one piece of advice, "Call Barbra Jean, Brock."

THE END

**A/N: An idea that has stuck in my mind when I was busy writing "It Started In Vegas". Thank you for reading !**


	2. Chapter 2

She had been sneaking out, driving Rhonda every moment she could.

Reba had the keys in her hands when Brock came in through her kitchen door, as she could only look down at her ridiculous attire. In fact, Brock's eyes almost popped out of their sockets at his ex-wife in tight-fitting jeans that he hadn't seen her wear in years.

"Reba," He gasped out, unable to take his eyes off of her.

"What do you want?" She pouted helplessly. Van and Cheyenne were going to come home any moment at this point and she was going to miss out on her chance to ride.

"Uh, why are dressed like that?" He was pointing at her get-up, suddenly forgetting the reason he was standing in her kitchen.

"Because Van eats peanut butter straight out of the jar," Reba rolled her eyes, sliding on her cat eyed sunglasses.

"Okay?" He could comprehend that, crazy as it may seemed, before he realized what she meant,"Oh. Reba? Have you been sneaking out with Van's car?"

She merely rolled her eyes at him, gesturing at the door.

"No time to talk, get in the car." She made a compromise that he could only accept with confusion.

They slid against the cement in halt against the red light. Brock felt his seat belt dig into his chest a considerable amount before he turned to the redhead, looking so cool in her sunglasses.

Reba didn't need to glance at her ex-husband, the silence explained it all.

"So?" She grasped the wheel and let go repeatedly, laughing out the next part,"What's up? Terry still giving you two trouble, Mary?"

She finally turned to Brock with a huff. Whatever happened to his sense of humor?

"Hey," He was at a loss for words, looking down at his lap and fiddling with his thumbs, "Reba?"

And she wished she didn't have butterflies in her stomach every time he said her name like that, softly and as if it were the only word he knew.

"Yes?" The question came out sharper than she wished when she saw Brock flinch, shoulders slumped a little more next to her.

"I just-Reba, I really need a friend right now." He sighed, as Reba pressed the pedal as soon as the light turned green, "I don't, I don't even know how to explain it."

Reba kept quiet. Half of her wanted to reply with a smirk and a comment about Barbra Jean and half of her wanted to pull over and give him a big hug.

"Reba, I-can we-I mean,-Are we," He was searching for the right way to tell her the confusion that was settling in his mind, he was going to go mad if he couldn't tell his best friend. His voice was getting quieter and quieter, "Are we still friends, Reba?"

"What is this, middle school?" Reba decided to start off this new turn in the conversation so unfamiliarly oriented, "Of course we are, Brock!"

Reba lowered the sunglasses from her face before taking them off so she could look at him closely.

"What's goin' on?"She felt as if she was walking on broken glass.

"Nothing." He was rubbing his palms on his pants, not knowing how to explain he had this sudden need to be around her constantly, "I just miss us. I miss you."

There was something so earnest in the way the dentist had proclaimed it that Reba felt that same statement ring true for her. She missed him much more than she was willing to say, and to show. What was worse was all the ways she missed him. Reba had missed Brock as a husband, a lover, and mostly as a friend. He, it was easy to say he reciprocated those same feelings.

"What?" Guilty, she wanted to hear him say it again.

"I said," He took a breath before continuing, "I miss you, Reba."

This time she felt it was time to pull over and so the two of them sat in Rhonda in some parking lot.

"I'm here, always." She unbuckled her seat belt and leaned over to the passenger seat, stroking his back, her eyes intently staring at him.

"I know, Reba." He gave her a tired smile, too tired of a smile, "I know I can always count on you."

"Now spit it out." She was nodding her head,"Come on, it took you less time to tell me you knocked up your dental hygienist."

"You figured it out anyway," Brock answered with a smug expression at the fact Reba knew exactly why he had to break up twenty years of marriage. The woman knew him too well.

To Reba, it seemed she had already solved some part of Brock's problem right now. It wasn't sympathy. It was empathy. He was going through something she felt completely familiar with but she just couldn't put her hands on it. All the same, her approaches to protecting herself through snide and sarcastic comments were not at all appropriate for her ex-husband right now but she was feeling more and more vulnerable without that defense.

"You're darn right I will," Reba answered, her hands sliding down from his shoulders, up and down his arm. She shrug off the tension before her eyes landed on her wristwatch, "But it looks like we have to go home now."

"Hmm," Brock tried to make a joke to break the awkward silence, "Van has a curfew for his precious car?"

"Pffttt," Reba scoffed, there was no way her son-in-law was going to tell her what to do, "No, Kyra has a date with Scott tonight."

"I don't like that kid," Brock watched Reba buckle her seat belt, suddenly feeling so cold where her hand was once touching his arm, "I see how he looks at our fourteen year old."

Reba rolled her eyes, igniting the engine of the car.

"Wait, why does it matter she has a date tonight? She did tell us first AND they are going with a group." Brock's eyebrows furrowed, "What, you don't trust Barbra Jean and me?"

"No," Reba's lips formed a perfect O, "I'm just scared that he's going to pressure her into doing something she doesn't want to."

"Oh God, don't even tell me this. I don't know what I would do with that punk." Brock did look as if he were in pain. It was nice to think of those he loved instead of wallowing in his own depression.

"Why do you think we form relationships?" Reba asked, out of the blue. How was it, exactly, when she knew that Brock was the one for her before she even turned 20 years old. But she quickly realized that speaking her mind around her ex-husband about love was a bit problematic, "And look who I am asking."

Of course the redhead had to smile at him. There was no ill meant in her comment, she only felt stupid for asking.

"Do you want me to drop you off?" Reba felt her throat dry as they neared their neighborhood.

"Hmmm? Nah, I can walk home from your place." Brock rested his cheek on a closed fist, "Hey, we should do this more often."

"You mean sneakin' around in our son-in-law's car?" Reba gave him a smug smile, before giving him an earnest reply, "Yeah, we should."

"I'll talk to you later," He opened his side of the door as Reba did with her side, slamming it shut as soon as he slipped out. He ran to her side, brushing his arm against hers and he didn't know what else to say except, "Thanks, sweetie."

And he was off, running off before he could see her cheeks turning red at the sound of Brock calling her sweetie.

**A/N: Hey guys, I had originally posted this as a one-shot but due to a comment from rarararawr, I started having...ideas. This may be purely experimental, but then again, I do have ideas of where this can go. I guess I will see how it goes so Review please? and Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

"Mom, can I ask you a question?" Jake wandered into the kitchen where Reba turned to face her youngest son.

"Sure, Jake," Reba shrugged, bringing the vegetables from the refrigerator to the sink for washing. He sat down at the kitchen table, basketball in hand and his Yao Ming Rockets jersey on.

"Do I smell?" He asked as Reba blinked at her ten year old son.

"Jake, your body is going through some changes now," She had began the puberty speech she had saved for later, along with some introduction to deodorant. Her little boy was growing up so fast, and she would have to tell Brock to give Jake the sex talk some time soon.

"Mom, I stink, huh?" Jake was rubbing his nose with the statement.

"Yea." She nodded, looking apologetic for the truth.

"Cool!" A smile brimmed on his face as he dashed out of the room, leaving his mother shaking her head with amusement.

As one of her children stepped out, she had deal with another coming into the kitchen.

"Hey Mom, do you have the number of the restaurant we went a couple of days ago?" Cheyenne leaned on the counter, watching her mother dice carrots.

"What restaurant?" She blankly looked at her daughter.

"You know, the one you and Dad took me to when you picked me up from school?" Cheyenne continued, holding the phone in her hand, "When Van had to take Elizabeth to the her checkup that day he didn't have football practice?"

"Oh, that cafe with the cute little cookies?" Reba nodded, finally comprehending just exactly her daughter was referring to.

"Yeah," She nodded at her mother and with a wide grin, finished her sentence, "I'm making a reservation for my birthday week next week!"

Reba rolled her eyes, before she pointed to the living room with her knife.

"Check in my purse, I have their business card somewhere." She racked her mind.

"Thanks Mom," Cheyenne walked over to peck her mom on the cheek, "How do you guys know that place?"

"It's just always been there. Your daddy took me there _years_ ago but there used to be this really long line," Reba shrugged as Cheyenne walked out, shouting another thank you to her mother. Some faint memories came up as Reba recalled how close she was getting with Brock these past couple of days. Ever since the first incident in the mall, Brock had been popping his head into Eugene's office to prompt her to walk out and then he would propose a lunch date. Each time he seemed so close to telling her something but they decided to discuss other matters instead. It had never felt wrong to Reba, it was certainly no crime for her to eat lunch with her ex husband. They even picked up Cheyenne once, for goodness's sake. But what had felt most wrong to the redhead was how much she was enjoying his company. Lost in thought, she quickly found herself back in reality when the kitchen door slammed shut and standing in front of her was Barbra Jean.

"Hey Reba!" Her voice was high pitched, the big blonde was clenching and unclenching her fists and worry was written all over her face as she paced in front of her best friend.

"What's the matter, Barbra Jean?" Reba sighed, feeling her headache return.

"I think Brock's cheating on me!" She waved her hand in front of her face, tears streaming down her eyes but Reba chose to think it was the smell of the onions doing that.

"What?" Reba put down her vegetables.

"He's been coming home late, and he doesn't pick up his phone! The other day, I went to his office during his lunch break and his receptionist told me he went out to lunch with someone! And he's not at the golf courses either, oh Reba what am I going to do?! " She was almost hyperventilating as Reba put up her hands.

"Barbra Jean, calm down. I'm sure there's a reason for all this." And the thought hit her. The reason was her.

"I mean, how many women does one man need?" She was hysterical.

"I'm sure he just has a lot of stuff to do, what with switching professions and all that and he may have just been too busy to pick up his phone. And I'm sure he was probably out to lunch with, with a um business associate." Reba listed out the reasons. She was going to give Brock a nice earful for the apparent trouble he was putting Barbra Jean through because he knows she would come running to Reba.

"Who cares what kind of tramp he's going to lunch with?" Barbra Jean exclaimed, letting a high pitched squeal, as Reba could only stare at her.

"Barbra Jean," Reba's voice was level, hoping that her ex-husband's wife would calm down.

"Reba, you have to talk to him for me," She pouted.

"No!"She scrunched up her nose at Barbra Jean's request.

"Please, things have been rough between us for a while. All we do is fight nowadays!" Barbra Jean whined.

"Hey Mom, I couldn't find the business card of that cafe," Cheyenne wandered into the kitchen, "But Dad told me the phone number. Hey, Barbra Jean!"

"Your father's here?" Barbra Jean folded her arms as her eyes squinted on Reba suspiciously.

"Yeah, he had to drop off something. He's in the living room with Jake," Cheyenne motioned to the said area as she hung up the home phone, and continued to talk as she walked back out,"Well, at least this time I can dress a bit better for that fancy cafe since you and Dad didn't warn me when we went on Wednesday."

"Wednesday? That was the day I stopped by his dental office," Barbra Jean put two and two together as her face showed her disgust, "Oh my Goodness! You're the tramp he lunched with!"

"Barbra Jean!" Reba wished she wasn't feeling so guilty once Cheyenne had to come in with her oblivious comments about a simple afternoon meal, "You heard Cheyenne, she was there too!"

"I can't believe you're having an affair with my husband!" Barbra Jean was heep-heeping like mad, enough so that Brock came into the kitchen.

"What's going on?" He looked genuinely confused as Barbra Jean huffed and ran out through the back door.

And Reba glared at the man in front of her.

"What's going on is that your wife thinks your cheatin' on her." She enunciated each word clearly as he burst out laughing, "Well? Are you?"

"Of course not." He scoffed, "I'm not going to make the same mistake twice."

"Then what's going on?" Reba incredulously asked, putting her hands at the edge of the counter.

"Reba-" His voice was obvious in dodging the topic.

"No Brock." Frustration rose in her voice, "Perhaps I didn't make myself clear. Barbra Jean thinks you are having an affair with _me_."

This time the blond didn't laugh.

**A/N: Is being too dragged out? Well, I'm writing it as it goes and thank you for reading.**

**In the meanwhile, I'm writing this author's note in the hopes that all you amazing Reba fanfiction writers keep on with the updates! I know summer's ended and school's back but come on, you guys, please? Haha, thanks for taking the time to read mine.**


	4. Chapter 4

"Okay," He sighed, his body slumping onto the kitchen stool, "But will you promise not to tell anyone?"

"Go on," Reba nodded, waving her hand as if she could rush the words out of him.

"It's a bit embarassing, it's just..." Brock started, "I'm seeing a therapist. And she diagnosed me as depressed."

"Brock." Reba's eyes widened. Brock was going through the same thing she had gone through three years back.

"Anyways, I think it really is helping to be able to talk to someone," He almost sounded ashamed of himself, "And she suggested I take anti-depressants."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Well, Brock," Reba's voice softened, "Why didn't you tell Barbra Jean?"

"I'm not sure how to tell her," Brock scoffed, "It's demeaning, Reba. I'm embarrassed, I mean do you know what it's like to be like this?"

Reba wanted to nod yes, hug him, anything but go on with the harsh pretense of telling him to stop being a baby for being so secretive.

"That's ridiculous and you know it. Barbra Jean deserves to know this." Reba demanded of her ex, folding her arms over her chest.

"Not now, Reba." He looked so haggard, "We've just been fighting over the littlest things. I just don't want another blow-up right at the moment."

"Would you rather she believe we're having an affair?" Those words certainly raised a thought in Brock.

"Well..." Something came flying at him the moment he voiced that he was even considering that, "Look Reba, I'm sorry I dragged you into this mess."

"You better be, now go on home and tell your wife!" She glared at him, hands gripping the counter so tightly.

Brock silently looked down at his hands before he looked up at her again.

"Will you come with me?" The sincerity made the back of her neck tingle. It ached to see him in so much pain.

"Brock, I have to start dinner." Reba began but a pout formed on his face.

"Please, Reba?" He truly needed her.

"Brock, I told you." She rolled her eyes, "That puppy dog pout ain't gonna work on me anymore."

* * *

"Hey, is it too late to tell her we're having an affair?" Brock suggested to his ex-wife, standing on his front porch for the past five minutes.

"We are not having an affair." Reba gritted through her teeth, giving him a substantial slap on the back of his head.

"Why does it bother you?" Brock wondered with amusement why she would take that suggestion out of proportion. As long as if it weren't the truth, it was nothing to get mad about but then again, this _was_ his fiery redhead.

"It doesn't matter." She reached for his arm and pulled him into his house. And somewhere along the walk from his living room to his kitchen, Reba felt his clammy hands grasp hers. His fingers intertwined with hers and he was leaning into her as if hoping she could support him in more than just confront to his beliefs of masculinity and marriage.

"Honey?" Reba turned her head and wished she didn't look so disappointed when she saw that her ex-husband was looking right at Barbra Jean.

"Oh, back from your romantic coffee shop date?" She threw the towel into the sink with eyes almost popping out of their sockets.

"Stop it, we are not having an affair." Reba growled as Brock shuffled his feet.

"Right," Barbra Jean scoffed, waving at the two of them, "Then why are you two holding hands?"

Silence filled the room as Reba let go of his hand quicker than he could even react to Barbra Jean's words.

"Look, don't bring Reba into this." Brock put his hands at his hip, anger filling his words.

"Okay, then I'm leaving!" Reba clapped her hands together, laughing nervously, as she headed to the door with a pat to Brock's shoulder.

"I mean, you're just jumping from one hasty conclusion to the next! Do you always have to be on my case about everything?" Brock was spewing, and Reba felt frozen on the spot as she listened to his words, "For God's sake, I was out having lunch with my daughter and her mother. Is that so wrong?"

"You told me Reba wasn't part of the problem, then why are you bringing her up?" Barbra Jean shouted back.

"You're bringing her up." Brock stared blankly at his wife.

Barbra Jean bit her lip, walking over to rub his shoulders as she calmly started over, "What's wrong, honey?"

Evidently, that did calm him down. He took a deep breath and Reba bit her lips as she mouthed for him to continue. Brock took Barbra Jean's hands in his, and looked her straight in the eye.

When she had walked out of their house and was walking back to her own, three houses down, so many thoughts were running through her head. The last few days had been a blur and when Brock had confided in her something he must have been wanting to tell her, she was about to go mad. Why did he always have to drag her into his life? He wasn't her concern anymore. Yet, he waltzes into her house and her life and then looks at her as if she was his idol.

When she arrived back at her house, she had the strongest urge to run upstairs to her room but when her children looked at her come in with curious faces, Reba found herself walking as tall as she could back to the kitchen where she finally allowed the thought to sink in.

She was so scared, so frightened because Brock needed her at this time because it only means she wasn't going to stay away.

* * *

Brock came over that night with an apology. He revealed to her the hours of fighting and then silence with Barbra Jean.

"She doesn't want to believe I'm like this." Brock scoffed, collapsing on the chair closest to the door.

"Fine, I'll talk to her." Reba folded her arms with a frown.

"No," Brock folded his arms behind his head as he reclined into the cushion and rested his feet on the coffee table, "You know what? Maybe I don't need to get on antidepressants. I mean, I feel much better."

"Brock, it doesn't work that way." Reba shook her head, finding a seat on her sofa with her face intently on Brock's. She almost hesitated but she continued on softly, "Believe me, I know."

"How would you know?" He laughed off the idea.

"Because I've taken antidepressants before," The annoyance in her voice dissipated when he leapt out of his seat.

"What?"

"Right after you decided to move out," She tried hard to fight his gaze.

They didn't talk but it felt like there was some sort of mutual conversation that made both of them more wholly aware of their emotions.

"Reba," He took a seat next to her, "Why didn't you tell me, honey?"

"How could I, Brock?" Reba didn't want to say anything about him calling her honey or wrapping his arms around her shoulders or his totally concerned state of mind. She turned to look at him and she could swear there were tears in both of their eyes.

"It seems like we can't be happy without each other." He declared, voice husky. And as she was nodding her head in thought of the unfortunate way their relationship had to turn out, his lips were crashing down on hers.

**A/N: Grrr. waiting for all of you Reba fanfiction writers to update your stories! But thanks for reading mine! I wanna make things happen faster...**


	5. Chapter 5

"What in the heck do you think you're doing?" Reba gasped for air, pushing Brock by his chest. He heaved reluctantly, but left his fingers and palm on her back.

"I made a mistake, Reba." He whispered, eyes almost looking desperately into hers. As much as Reba could perceive the way he was looking at her, she was certain Brock was more desperate for the fact he wasn't going to get a good whupping on the back of his head. In fact, it left Brock uneasy in her not making her disapproval show.

"Don't say things you don't really mean." Reba pursed her lips, watching him groan in reaction. She added in, "The medication must have some side effects."

"Reba, I'm serious." He sounded like a little boy who wanted to be taken seriously, "I've been unhappy for a while. Now I know what I really want."

"This is moving too fast," Reba was shaking her head, breaking the intense eye contact she and Brock had been making since their kiss.

"It's been years." He mentioned, running his hand up and down her back in slow motion.

"No, we can't." Reba's throat was aching with the tears she sworn not to cry out, "You done me wrong, Brock!"

"I know I did," Brock croaked out, "Why didn't you tell me you were going through depression all by yourself? I feel horrible."

"Oh Brock," Reba sighed, leaning back into the couch as an arm that was once on her back automatically wrapped around her shoulder.

"It's all my fault." He bluntly stated, "Everything I do turns into chaos."

"No, it's not." Reba patted his knee, trying to bring some humor into this decidedly serious situation. Meanwhile the way he was suggesting without saying it out loud, Reba found one capable answer to his questions, "And we can't. As long as Barbra Jean's willin' to fight for you, we can't."

"Isn't it enough that I'm fighting for us?" Brock asked quietly.

"It's too late." Reba sighed out, walking out of his embrace and to the door, which she opened as she declared, "It's too late to fight for us. It's also too late for you to be hanging out here."

"Can we talk about this?" He walked over next to her.

"I don't want to talk about it." She was blinking rapidly at the emotional stress Brock was putting her under by somehow revealing that he made a mistake. Reba could think of a million reasons for it, anything but gain the painful hope that it was because he loved her back.

They didn't have the closure they needed, those antidepressants, Barbra Jean. Please.

Brock dropped the subject fast, it was hurting both of them. He pulled her into another hug, kissing her on the cheek.

"Good night," He breathed into her ear as she wrapped her arms a little tighter around his body before letting go. She said the same to him before he replied to her, "I swear, I'm going to fix things."

And when the door closed on him, he stood there thinking of all the ways he knew he had to mend his mistakes. Reba was Brock's source of happiness.

Brushing off the wrinkles in her outfit, Reba walked into the kitchen where Kyra and Cheyenne were at, digging through the fridge for a snack.

"Hey Mom!" Cheyenne cheerfully greeted her mother, not noticing the redness of her eyes.

"Did you guys go out?" Reba asked, then made sure they knew Mom was being Mom, "Together?"

Kyra nodded as Cheyenne bounced over to her little sister's side, pulling her into a tight side hug.

"Yes!" Cheyenne touched noses with Kyra, "I just love hanging out with my adorable sister!"

"Not as much as you do with your credit card, I'm sure." Kyra gave her a smirk as Cheyenne actually took time to consider that statement.

"I should get my shopping bags out of the car," Cheyenne nodded, letting go of her fifteen year old sister as she ran out of the door, "But go get the nail polish! I'm going to give you a manicure!"

"What was that all about?" Reba asked incredulously, pointing at the door.

"It doesn't matter," Kyra waved off, but bit her lip afterwards as if to stop herself from talking anymore about how Scott broke up with her. And she changed the subject fast, "So Dad was here? We heard him leaving when we came in."

"Uh yeah, he just came for a chat." Reba sat down on the stool watching Kyra eat her yogurt.

"It's a bit late," Kyra furrowed her brows, prompting her mother to catch the time, "Something's going on with Dad, huh?"

"As usual," Reba let on a big smile at the jab she felt she had to make about Brock.

"It sucks." And it was amazing how in her fifteen year old words, those two words explained everything so clearly.

"Sweetie, if things get rough at home you always have your mama." Reba's voice softened.

"I know I do. But I'm not scared." Kyra scoffed off the idea.

"You're not?"

"No." This time, Kyra didn't look so brave.

"Kyra..." Reba leaned forward with a concerned look on her face.

"No Mom, it really is fine." Kyra nodded to herself, "Dad's just going through a phase and everything's going to be just fine."

"You really think so?" Reba had to give credit to her amazingly mature daughter to look at things so positively.

"Pretty soon Dad's going to go back to the normal. He's going to go back to dentistry and quit golf, go back to actually caring about his hair, and he's going to go back to Barbra Jean because he knows that that's where he belongs." Kyra reasoned.

Before Reba could continue, Cheyenne burst into the room with shopping bags dangling from both hands.

"Come on Kyra! Lemme drop these things off at my room and bring my stuff over to your old room!" She set the bags down as she turned to her mother excitedly, "Kyra and I are going to have a sleepover."

"Actually, Cheyenne, I should really be heading home. Barbra Jean and Dad don't know I'm here and it really scared them the last time I slept over."

"Nonsense! Just give them a call!" Cheyenne pouted at Kyra, "We need to spend some girl to girl time! Come on, Kyra!"

Reba watched her daughter heave a sigh before rolling her eyes and nodding and the two sisters walked out of the kitchen, leaving Reba with their good nights. And the redhead truly comprehended what her daughter said.

This was all a phase that Brock was going through and by the end of the day, he was going to be holding Barbra Jean in his arms. She didn't understand the sense of disgust she felt in imagining that as it conflicted with the happy understanding that they were going to resolve their conflicts.

Still, if life were measured in phases then she wasn't going to get of this phase of loving Brock Hart anytime soon.

**A/N: Sometimes the feels for these two get too much for me, and I console myself in knowing they were still married during like the whole first season :) ANYWAYS, the Brock and Reba love is getting too much haha but thanks again for reading!  
**


	6. Chapter 6

"Mommy, I don't feel so good." Cheyenne was pouting, as she sat up from the couch where she spent her first night as a twenty one year old. She sat back, letting out a groan, "My head hurts so much."

"Now you know how I feel every time Barbra Jean talks to me." Reba smirked, propping her head up.

"Mom, please." Cheyenne closed her eyes, squinting out the light that was still hitting her eyes. She really didn't comprehend what was exactly going on between her mother and stepmother but she didn't want to discuss it now with her throbbing headache. Cheyenne attempted to stand up, "Woah, I swear it was never this bad when I used to-"

Reba gave her oldest daughter a raised eyebrow.

"I mean, drinking is bad." Cheyenne earnestly nodded at her mother, who was still sitting down, "I need to go freshen up."

With that, she was stomping up the stairs, leaving Reba to ponder about how quickly how baby was already twenty one. Pretty soon, she decided she needed to get going with the rest of her day.

"Morning, Mom," The comment seemed fine despite it almost being noon coming from Kyra's mouth. The teenager was sitting next to her younger brother, watching Jake slurp down his cereal.

"Kyra!" Reba always felt as if her day got a little bit better whenever Kyra stopped by after she moved out a year ago.

"You don't have work today, right?" Reba caught the tone of Kyra's voice as she looked up from making her sandwich.

"No, I don't," Reba nodded, "But I have to stop by at your dad's office later."

"Why?" Something about how close her parents seemed to have gotten over the last few weeks irked her. The behavior was completely surprising to Kyra, especially after what her father had confided to her last night.

"You know, checkup on my teeth." Reba shrugged.

"It's still weird that you go to Dad's." Cheyenne had walked into the kitchen, catching onto Reba's conversation with her little sister.

"Honey, you guys still go to Dad's." Reba laughed off, seeing Cheyenne grab a water bottle from the fridge.

"Because he's Dad." Cheyenne sat down at the stools in front of the island.

"And also because you work for Eugene now?" Kyra also reasoned.

"What's wrong with me goin' to Brock for a teeth cleaning?" Reba put down her sandwich.

"It's true. Dad's better with his hands." All three women turned to look at Jake with a quizzical expression at his comment, he merely shrugged, "What? If you want to be smooth with the ladies, you let your hands do the magic."

Right. He really needed the talk any day soon.

"I gotta go," Cheyenne glanced at the time, "Van's at the mall with Elizabeth."

With Jake having run out of the kitchen after his extremely awkward statement and Cheyenne heading out the door, it was only the two redheads left in the room.

"Well, Mom, since you have some time before your appointment," Kyra started walking toward the island, "Can we talk?"

"Sure, honey." Reba nodded, biting into her sandwich, "What about?"

"For one thing, Dad." Kyra nodded ever so slightly, knowing she was treading on ice, "And what's going on with him."

"Did he tell you?" Reba murmured back after a period of understood silence. When Kyra nodded yes, she let out a sigh. Her daughter was too young to worry about the troubles of adults.

"Dad did tell me about the antidepressants." Kyra answered more clearly than her nod could provide. When she looked at her mother, she realized that it was her mother and father both who were so stubborn to realize how alike they were. The "pillar of strength" outlook they had on themselves really wasn't necessary and Kyra tensed as she continued. She wanted to help her dad out in the way she couldn't when she was just a twelve year old, but Kyra comprehended how her next words were going to hurt her mother, "In that case, can you tell me more about them since you've been on them before?"

And when Reba looked straight into her daughter's eyes, all vulnerability seeped through.

* * *

"Your teeth looks great," was adjusting his last-patient-of-the-day's seat with a smile on his face, "You've always taken good care of them."

"I try," Reba smiled brightly at Brock as she leaped out of the chair, "Having been married to a dentist has its perks."

Stupid. Reba hoped he wasn't going to take that statement seriously. She could have said anything but the fact that Brock had to do with it. Anything like the fact that was a receptionist at Eugene's dental office? Or that her mother insisted on good habits? Instead, she cursed herself for saying that being married to Brock had perks of any kind.

Instead she contorted to a snide expression.

"Do you flirt with all your female patients? Honestly, Brock." She rolled her eyes before walking out of the examination room as Brock confusedly followed her out.

"Do you mind waiting?" He tried to keep her company, already sliding off his blue coat and his latex gloves, "I just need to close up. Sit down."

Motioning to the waiting room seats, he headed into his office. On any other day she would not have waited but her conversation with Kyra kept coming up in her mind and Reba really needed to talk to Brock about it.

Talking about Kyra consumed much of their conversation and attention, before Reba and Brock found them sitting in her empty house. Brock was facing the front, eyes vacantly staring at the closed television as Reba sat with her body directed at him. Her arm was resting on the back cushions of the floral couch and her other on her lap.

"There's more to it though," Brock rubbed his face, leaning back into the couch.

"What?" Reba had her eyes wide open, involuntarily sliding closer to him.

"Barbra Jean wants a divorce." Brock hoped he was not going to get hit, as Reba took time to absorb more change that was coming to the family, "She says we would be better off friends instead of how awkward things have been."

"Brock, you can't." Talking to Kyra about her own fight against depression opened up how those tormenting thoughts messed with her decision making, "You're going through a lot right now."

"And she's not willing to support me," Brock finished, "And frankly, I don't want to see her worry over me like she does."

"Just know that Barbra Jean loves you with all her heart," Reba frowned, knowing her interference probably hasn't helped their marriage much. Then again, a part of her knew they were begging for her voice in their trials and tribulations.

"Yeah, I know, Reba." Brock scoffed, closing his eyes as he continued on in a light voice, "I love her too."

And Reba nodded knew that was really all they needed to realize that their marriage was one worth saving until his next words came out of the blue.

"But not the way I love you." His eyes were on hers.

This time his bold comments got a slapping. But Brock knew what he was saying. He was sitting through enough therapy sessions for both his depression and his marriage to know that he had to be honest with himself. He knew it the moment he kissed her.

"Don't ever say that again." Reba hissed.

"But it's true." He retorted, "I can feel what I feel, Reba."

"No, based on what you just confided in me, I'm just your rebound until you find a younger and prettier THIRD wife." Reba was turning red, walking back and forth in front of Brock, "Honestly, Brock, stop blurting stuff out before you even understand-"

"Stop saying I don't understand." He was standing up with his hands on his hips, anger on his face, "I don't want anyone but you! I can't wake up in the morning until I hear this voice, your voice, in the back of my head telling to get my ass out of bed. I can't swallow those damn happy pills without thinking about how you had to. God, I'm just so sick of hurting everyone I love."

"Well, your actions are proving a bit selfish." Reba jabbed back, as hard as it was to make after his emotional spiel, "Every time I think about moving on, you come back and say something stupid about your feelings."

"Do you love me?" He quietly asked, eyes intent on hers as he breathed heavily.

"Brock-" Reba had the strongest urge to inch away from him, scream at him to get out but he seized the reins.

"No, Reba, do you love me?" Brock's voice was firmer and louder, demanding an answer out of her.

"I can't hurt Barbra Jean now," She was blinking back tears. Indeed, she had become too much of a friend that if Brock's inevitable confession was made, she would be much adamant in lying right in his face, "Not like how you two-"

And two strong arms were holding her tightly, desperate lips pecking at the top of her head before finding their way to her lips.

"I can't stay away from you." He whispered before kissing her hard on the lips as she wrapped her arms around his waist, willingly obliging to the mayhem that was sure to come from all this.

**A/N: I hope this writing fuel won't be running low anytime soon! But you can add to it with your gracious reviews ;)**

**Thanks for reading this chapter.**


	7. Chapter 7

Brock leaned over, using his palm to turn Reba's face to his a bit too forcefully, hungry for another passionate kiss.

Sitting with backs against fluffed up pillows and the headboard, Reba pulled the sheets up against her naked body as Brock decided a kiss was not enough physical contact after making love. He wrapped an arm over her shoulder and she contently rested her head against his chest and her arm around his waist.

"Don't regret this." He pressed his lips against a mess of red hair and made use of his other arm to pull her closer to him.

Reba merely tapped her fingers lightly on his waist, eyes darting to the clothes strewn over the premises of her lamp lit bedroom.

"Reba?" He murmured into her forehead.

She closed her eyes tightly. Things had escalated ever since Brock pulled her into his arms a couple of hours ago. Reba couldn't say that this was what she wanted, rather she felt she needed it. And at that moment, the both of them knew that after the deed had been committed that this was no one night stand.

"I think the last thing Kyra was suggesting to me earlier today was to have an affair with you." Reba was now fully aware of the lazy, rhythmic stroke of Brock's hand over the back of her shoulder. He rolled his eyes as Reba let out a yawn. This kind of activity she had not done in years and as she closed her eyes for a second, she begged herself not to sound so sullen as she spoke up, "You can leave now, Brock."

Because that was the way it was going to be. They would spend some time in what they would both consider sanctuary but in the end, he was going to leave and she was going to wake up lonely. Two grown adults faced with obstacles they had made themselves in their own furious race to destruction in the name of love.

Reba glanced up at him and with a dry throat croaked out quizzically, "I said, you can get out of my room now."

His smile flickered for a second until Reba rolled herself away from her ex-husband. One groan and he dragged himself off, allowing himself a view of her freckled back . He had slid on his boxers and threw on his t shirt just to crawl back into the bed, unable to resist how inviting she looked. He had not felt so healthily refreshed in a long time and he could only notice how she was so beautiful, glowing with the glistening of sweat.

"Hey," What else could Brock say when Reba pulled the sheets tighter around her body and turned to glare at him? Brock slid his hand from around her wrist to her hand, so to lock his fingers with hers, swinging it just slightly. He could have sat there all day just watching her.

"It's getting late." Reba remarked tiredly. Barbra Jean would wonder. The kids were going to come home. She would need to whip some supper up.

Brock nodded, reluctantly finishing the rest of his dressing. As he quietly shut the door, he had one last peek of red hair and he hoped that things would one day be as wonderful as they used to be.

As soon as the door shut firmly, Reba's eyelids opened to reveal bloodshot eyes. She followed her glance to the wooden door and turned to let her stomach press against the mattress. In some surreal reality, she slipped her cheek unto the cool pillows that Brock had been laying his head on. Reba indulged herself in inhaling in whatever scent remained behind, the strong familiar scent that she never could identify with words. It was just...Brock.

She wrapped her arms around the rumpled pillow, drowning her senses with his smell and her imagination. Reba allowed herself to replay the few moments of bliss they had just shared. Goosebumps rose on her arm and she squeezed the pillow tightly to fight the freezing void she felt herself slipping into.

* * *

"Brock?" The moment that he stepped into his house, Brock saw Barbra Jean walking toward him with her arms folded and she asked incredulously, "Where have you been?"

"Stuff came up." He answered, grateful that she didn't question him any further. He noticed her Pokemon footsie pajamas to realize just how late it was and how much he had lost track of time.

"I thought we agreed to move your things to your condo?" Barbra Jean frowned at her husband who gave a similar expression.

"I know," He waved it off, attempting to make his way to the dark staircase, "How 'bout next Saturday?"

"No, Brock. I kicked you out!" She whined, stomping her foot just a bit as she gleefully checked her authority, "And we agreed that since we are getting a divorce, you should move back to your condo."

"But it's too late now, Barbra Jean," He sighed, resting his hand on the hand rail of the stairs, "We'll handle this later."

"I don't think so," She resolutely shook her head, "I'm not gonna stand here waiting around for you to make up your mind."

Frankly the young blond didn't know how to handle her husband's identity crisis. She didn't the first time either, it was all giggles for being able to fool around with the boss.

"Can we please not argue?" Brock's other hand massaged his temples, frustration rising in his voice, "For Henry's sake?"

Barbra Jean opened her mouth as to speak but pursed her lips, watching him move quickly up the stairs. Though Brock had been so distant recently and though it was clear that their marriage was definitely over, Barbra Jean knew that she would rather he'd remain where he was. But each time he spoke to her the morning after some bickering, with his cordial manner, she knew that all the phoniness in this relationship had to end. But Barbra Jean knew she would quickly get back on her feet again. Why, this relationship was just like waxing, painful and necessary but with its benefits. She cackled delightfully at her analogy but felt the region under her nose and above her lips with a disgusted shudder.

And she knew she had the best way of dealing with her problems.

Her best friend, Reba.

* * *

"Barbra Jean?" A voice called out in the dark and Barbra Jean's eyes perked open, wiping off the drool that came with the few quick hours she had been snoring.

"Oh hey, Kyra." Barbra Jean smiled at her stepdaughter, who was closing off the television and brushing the fallen Cheetos off of Barbra Jean. She genuinely hoped that the impending divorce was not going to ruin her relationship with the fifteen year old, "What time is it?"

"Ten thirty," Kyra knew her curfew was strictly enforced.

"Go on up to your room," Barbra Jean patted Kyra's hair affectionately, before she stood up, "I'm going to clean up this mess."

"It's fine. I'll do it," Kyra suggested, hugging her stepmother, "Good night."

"Really?" Barbra Jean hugged her back tightly, "Okay but wake me up early tomorrow so we can make French toast and cinnamon rolls before church!"

"As always." Kyra let on a smile as Barbra Jean bounced up the stairs, the Pikachus on her PJs moving along with her.

Unbeknownst to the young teen, everything would not be "as always" as she assumed life would be.

* * *

**A/N:Tada. How do affairs even begin, I don't know either. Shrugs! Also, I think it is Chris Rich's birthday today? I feel EHHH about this chapter because something just feels...off.  
**

** Thanks for reading!  
**


	8. Chapter 8

Reba Hart was regretting herself for being too nice. And it was giving her a major headache.

After Brock and Barbra Jean had officially announced their separation and upcoming divorce to the kids, she found herself lost in the favors both of them were asking of her.

Stirring her coffee and an elbow on her kitchen table, she listened to Barbra Jean complain about Brock. At least she always had something baked for the two of them to snack on. But with Brock? There wasn't much talking going on.

"I never thought Brock was the divorcing type." Barbra Jean scrunched up her face.

Reba had to raise an eyebrow. Despite that last comment, Reba had to admit that most of Barbra Jean's complaints were legitimate.

"Hang in there," Reba absentmindedly nodded her head, almost as if telling herself that piece of advice.

Barbra Jean scoffed as she blew on her hot coffee.

"Oh, and Brock says Jake and Henry are going to be over at his condo tomorrow-"Barbra Jean suddenly seemed to recall some information.

"Yeah, he wants company while he paints the condo." Reba realized her amusement not shared with Barbra Jean. Her expression changed when she realized she had blurted out some pillow talk she was having with the woman's husband.

"Anyways," She pressed on, with eager eyes and lots of teeth showing in her mischievous smile, "That means we're free to hit some new bars!"

"Time to add to the napkin collection," Reba laughed, finally taking a sip of her coffee.

"That's what I'm talking about, sister!" Barbra Jean put down the mug, "I have to go. Beanie Babies Club meeting."

* * *

It may have been out of character for her to be driving over to her ex-husband's condo in the morning but one hour before work is one hour enough.

"I'm glad I didn't get dressed yet." Brock smirked, resting his hands at the back of her waist as she shut the front door behind them with a push of her hand. His lips tugged at hers. As Reba grabbed his upper arm with the same urgency he was giving her lips, she could feel the muscles in his arm tense as he pulled her body close to him.

Reba angled her head as she threw her arms over his shoulders, her lips never once leaving his as she fumbled for the bottom of his rumply t-shirt to tug at until she was touching bare skin. With her back pressed against the door, Reba wrapped one leg around Brock and all too quickly, she put the other up as soon as his hands found themselves capable of carrying her upstairs to his bedroom.

"You're beautiful," His voice was deep in his throat, as Brock gushed to the face he was hovering over. Ever since the first time it had happened, she had told him never to say the words. No "I love yous" or any similar proclamations. In Reba's words, they were simply relieving some tension, though not explicitly saying sexual tension. Not wanting to argue, Brock instead resorted to complimenting her. It always made him wonder how she would raise an eyebrow or bite her lips when he said something like that, as if she didn't realize that about herself.

Reba kicked off his boxers impatiently, quitting the task with satisfaction. Amusement was written in Brock's eyes at how Reba was acting under the constraints of time. Certainly not wanting to upset her demand for some speed, his hand moved from the zipper of her pants to sliding them off swiftly. A surprised gasp came out of Reba's mouth at Brock's prompt jump to action.

"Brock!" She growled out with mad eyes. He leaned his neck up at her after the first words she had said to him since she had arrived and had to stifle his laughter at the tone of her voice so unmatched with the look the pure ecstasy on her face.

He had missed this severely.

Though their emotional connection was shaken but strongly intact, he missed the physical connection they once so freely shared.

"I can pick you up for lunch?" Brock leaned on his doorway, a bit disappointed that all the buttons on the redhead's dress shirt were once again buttoned. She paused, turning around so that he could see her pretending to ponder with her arms crossed. The answer was obvious. No.

"Don't you have a golf tournament all afternoon?" She reminded him when he told her he wasn't headed to his office today, utilizing another method to show her disapproval. One of Barbra Jean's complaints to Reba was how even the lawyers saw it hard to comprehend Brock's motives in switching professions.

"I think I might go back to dentistry then," Brock pouted. Reaching for her hand and leaning forward to peck her lips, he could sense Reba's lips curving into a wide grin against his.

"I know, it's too bad," Reba rolled her eyes with sarcasm, pushing the hair that had fallen into her eyes, doing anything to distract from the fact she was blushing,"Well, don't be thinking too much about me when you're out there swinging at golf balls."

"Good-bye." And Brock couldn't help but think they said good-bye too many times to each other.

* * *

"Hey Jake!" Reba watched her youngest son walk in with Brock.

"What, I don't get a greeting?" Brock walked over a bit too close to where his ex-wife was busy chopping vegetables. By the way he meant "greeting", Reba had to give him a glare.

"Go wash up and help Elizabeth downstairs, are you staying for dinner?" Reba motioned at Jake and paused to catch Brock's nodding face, "Go on and set the table, it's only me, you, Jake, and Elizabeth. Van and Cheyenne are still out apartment hunting."

When he heard Jake scampering up the stairs, Brock could barely keep his hands away from her as he started to caress her back. He looked from over her shoulder, as she tossed the salad, and whispered in her ear, "Turn around."

"Hmmm?" Reba knew she should scold him for acting so boldly when anyone could walk in that moment but she obeyed. As she predicted, Brock stole a kiss, before walking away whistling some off-tune song to set up the kitchen table. Reaching over the kitchen island, he reached for a baby carrot and caught Reba staring at him curiously.

"What's wrong?" He noticed her being a little too violent with dressing the salad, as if something were on her mind. After all, she never liked thousand island.

"I have something to ask you." She began slowly, eyes darting to see if the kids were coming.

"Shoot." He nibbled on the carrot, settling down on a high chair.

"This little thing...that's going on between us." Reba began, wondering how she could phrase this. She took a different approach, "Are you gonna fight for Barbra Jean?"

"You mean, if I am serious about us?" Brock quietly confirmed her thoughts, "I told you I lo-"

"Don't." Reba bit her lip.

"Reba," He sighed, "Barbra Jean and I have had our differences. This is the best thing for us. But for me and you, I'm dead serious."

"Can we-I mean, I know it's far from a normal relationship we have," Her voice was getting more and more hushed, "Can we start taking it slow? And maybe start it all over again?"

Knowing Reba so well, he could only imagine how much conflict must be going through her mind to so bravely go through with this love affair. And Brock swore he would make this temporary bliss permanent happiness. He felt as if he had waited for those stubborn lips to utter those words.

Nevertheless, Reba was ready to make this love last.

**A/N: I'm dissatisfied with this chapter...revised it several times. Hmmmm? Does it feel like Brock and Reba are moving too fast? Well, I have even more action planned ahead so sorry if this chapter wasn't all that...  
**

**Thanks for reading and please drop a review!**


	9. Chapter 9

"Are you asking me out?" Brock broke the silence that followed Reba's request.

"Forget it." Reba shook her head, downcast and embarrassed that she could of even thought to ask of more from their "platonic" relationship. She was even more annoyed by the fact that Brock was only going to take it as a joke. "Forget I ever asked you that."

"No, Reba." He ran over to her side, firmly placing both of his hands on each shoulder, "I want to. I've been waiting for you to say those words."

"It's so silly," Reba laughed bitterly at herself, "Here I am asking you to fixin' our relationship when you should be tryin' to make up with your wife!"

"It's not silly." Brock furrowed his brows, and his voice lowered, almost quavering, "I wanna be with you."

And the earnestness in his voice made her pause and think. The only reason she had blurted it out was that it was making her physically nauseated to be simply be friends with benefits with Brock Hart, the father of her three children and her best friend for the past few decades. A part of her wished she didn't have to push for more, not now. But Reba gulped at the thought of this situation becoming too big for either of them.

"Okay." She nodded fervently, her throat so dry as the two of them gazed into each other's eyes intently. Reba took a deep breath, and broke into a relieved smile as she repeated her words a little more definitely, "Okay."

Brock squeezed her shoulders reassuringly, as they leaned closer and closer until they were just centimeters apart. Reba closed her eyes, feeling herself gravitate toward him and just when she felt his breath on her lips, he backed away.

"When do we tell the kids?" Brock asked, walking over to peer out the kitchen door. Cheyenne and Van were walking up, busy in conversation but it confirmed the sounds Brock had heard.

"Not yet." Reba wondered why she was feeling so flustered, "Nothing, at least not until your divorce with Barbra Jean is final."

Just as she set the salad on the table, the two young adults walked into the kitchen.

"Hey Mom, hey Dad!" Cheyenne threw her purse on the kitchen counter.

"Something smells good!" Van breathed in the smell of chicken and steamed rolls, rubbing his palms together.

"How was the house hunting?" Brock walked over and grabbed unto the back of a chair, switching the conversation before the kids could assume anything as they would always do. Reba threw a grateful smile at her ex-husband.

"Oh it was great! I'll tell you guys later, I'm starving!" Cheyenne jumped up and down as Van nodded approvingly, "Where's Elizabeth?"

"I told Jake to bring her down five minutes ago," Reba walked into the living room, yelling up the stairs, "JAAAAAKE!"

"You didn't have to do that, Mom. Thanks for watching her!" Cheyenne leaned against the railing. Having been gone nearly all day, she had missed carrying around her darling daughter as she giddily squealed all the way upstairs, "Elizabeth, we're moving into a penthouse!"

"Penthouse?" Reba raised an eyebrow, directed her question at Van.

"Mrs. H, it's not what you think," Van brought a full plate to the kitchen island where he and Cheyenne would have to sit,"You have to see it, Mrs. H!"

Reba folded her arms, ready to lecture the two. Cheyenne bounced into the room, carrying Elizabeth, and Jake ran in soon afterwards.

"Cheyenne, what is this about a penthouse?" Brock watched Elizabeth being seated in her high chair.

Cheyenne merely nodded and helped herself to some salad.

"Honey, that can't be in your budget." Reba's eyes widened as Cheyenne nudged her head the slightest to show that it was not in their budget.

"Look Mrs. H, love to talk but my mouth needs to be used in other ways," Van would rather not get smacked while he was eating.

"Yes, but you can listen." Reba pointed at the chair for Cheyenne to sit and when she turned around, she was so glad it was Brock standing there. Parenthood was one of the gems that would always bring them together.

* * *

"It'll be a lonely night tonight." Brock gulped down the last of the red wine. After giving the children a lecture and sending them upstairs to make a decision, Reba and Brock discovered just how hungry they were. They let the kids finish and decided it wouldn't hurt to be able to eat with each other.

As much as they should have had to discuss, the place setting made it awkward and they were simply much too tired and hungry.

"You'll have Jake and Henry." Reba appreciated how Brock decided to end their fiery rendezvous because she basically told him they needed to talk it slow, "And I never said _that_ was over. We just need to talk it out first."

There, the plans were laid out clear as day.

"I'm glad." Brock dared to place his hand over hers on the table.

Meanwhile, Cheyenne ran over the reasons why maybe moving out wouldn't be such a smart choice.

"Van, I mean, I still have classes to pay for and you're still trying to come up with the money for a sports agent?" Cheyenne worried, frustrated that a few hours ago she so confidently wanted to spend almost four times more than they could even afford.

"But Cheyenne, you can see the curvature of the earth!" Van whined.

"Be serious honey." Cheyenne watched Elizabeth play in her was unsure whether she meant about staying on topic or about the sworn curving of the earth. Van let out a loud burp and Cheyenne turned disgustedly to face her husband.

"I think your Mom's cooking seals the deal, Cheyenne." Van plopped on his bed next to his wife.

"So we stay here?" Cheyenne genuinely was liking the idea better than heading out in the scary world without her mommy.

"Yeah, and think about it. First Mr. H moves out, then Kyra, and then us?" The twenty year old truly cared about his mother-in-law. Another thought filled his mind as he tickled his daughter's belly, "She's done so much for us and besides, I couldn't take away Elizabeth's favorite grandma, could I?"

"Okay! Let's go tell Mom and Dad!" Cheyenne pulled on his arms.

When they stepped downstairs, they were surprised to find the house empty.

"Mom?" Cheyenne called out, only loud enough for Van to hear and he was standing right next to her.

"Mrs. H?" Van echoed his wife and then turned to the blonde next to him, "Hey, wasn't she having dinner with Mr. H?"

"They aren't there anymore..." Cheyenne mouthed an O when she caught the porch lights on.

"Oh my God! They've been kidnapped by Martians!" Van shrieked and ran upstairs before Cheyenne could confirm her thoughts with him.

Cheyenne rolled her eyes and walked over to the door but curiosity took over her. She had not even realized the gradual proximity her parents had gotten ever since her father moved back to the condo and she wondered what had triggered it. Sure they would still bicker as they always did but something was off. She rolled back the curtains, peeking outside and letting herself get shocked.

Brock's arm was around her shoulder and Reba had her head nestled snugly on the front of his shoulder. They seemed to be talking to each, the wind blowing through their hair as if they had had chats on the porch for years. Cheyenne watched the comfortable body language they were sharing, stood on tiptoes and saw that her mother's hand was resting on her father's leg. He said something and she turned to give a skeptical look, the corners of her lips tugging at a smile.

It was serene to watch them and she couldn't help herself. She was rooting for Mommy and Daddy despite knowing how it might be the worst thing their whole family could go through together.

They certainly were being cozy. Cheyenne watched the glisten in their eyes, saw their whole body straighten as they listened to each other. But Cheyenne's spying and her parents' conversation was unfortunately interrupted when Van rushed out the front door with Elizabeth and Jake.

"Van, what are you doing?" Cheyenne heard her mother exclaim as she walked out front to join them. Reba had moved herself far away from the bench and when she locked eyes with her daughter, she couldn't help but feel bashful.

"There are martians out there. We were looking-" Van paused as he gave it another thought, "Oh, Hey Mr. and Mrs. H."

"What is going on here?" Brock had one arm on the wooden armrest and the other awkwardly on the back of the bench.

"Well, Mom," Cheyenne clapped her hands together in anticipatory excitement, "And Dad. We have decided that we're not moving out!"

And Cheyenne didn't want to. Not with what was more likely than not was going to occur.

**A/N: Expect the next chapter soon! Thanks for reading!  
**

**And really, thank you for all the considerate reviews! **


	10. Chapter 10

Heavy rain was beating the top of his truck as Reba snuggled in Brock's leather jacket, watching Brock steadily drive along the freeway from the passenger seat.

"What?" Brock casually glanced over, one hand on the steering wheel. It was hard not let his eyes wander, especially not when she was looking at him with such curiosity. Based upon the last few weeks, it was amazing how quickly they had settled back to how it was when they were married, sometimes it frightened Reba to consider that. They had too many memories together, good and bad. In the same instance, all this getting along just felt unnatural.

"What?" Reba whispered back while batting her eyelashes at him, feeling wildly flirtatious, "Thank you, Brock."

"For picking you up?" He scoffed. After a date with Van's agent, Sadie, Reba had wholly agreed with Brock that they could certainly spend more time together. He had been swamped with a whole lot of craziness lately. Nevertheless, his spirits were convincingly lifted as Reba was walking toward him in a fitting grey dress. He could hardly believe he was jealous of Sadie for being able to go on dates with Reba. No, this old friend and ex-husband was just a lover, and secret at that.

"Yes, I really wanted to ride shotgun in your new truck." Reba stuck her tongue out at him, taking in the smell of new leather, "I thought you always said trucks were too hillbilly for you, city boy. Why'd you trade in your car?"

"Trucks are masculine," He growled out, as if growling was also a masculine activity, before revealing his pitiful reason,"I just needed something different. I've already got a Harley, you know?"

"No, thank you for everything. For listening to me." Reba decided Brock needed to know that. For making her feel so special.

"I should be thanking you!" He exclaimed with a scoff, wishing he could have shown his gratitude better. Some flowers, some chocolates, anything to show Reba how much she meant to him, especially now, "So how was your dinner with Sadie?"

"Oh she picks the best restaurants," Reba answered, " And we talked a lot about Van. Sadie keeps telling me what a lovable kid he is, says Cheyenne and Elizabeth will always be taken care of."

"He is a good guy," Brock agreed, his son-in-law had great family values and football skills.

"It reassures me, you know?" Reba didn't need to continue. Brock knew where her worries laid in their oldest daughter's teen marriage, and he could sense her doubts as a parent being shielded as she changed the subject, "How was your date with the therapist?"

"Fantastic." He sarcastically answered, before he jokingly continued, "We've set the wedding date for July."

"What?" She raised a skeptical eyebrow, "I thought we were exclusive!"

"My one and only Reba." He liked the sound of that as she burst out laughing, unsure of why she was so happy about his words.

Too quickly they arrived at his gated community and when he cut the engine, he apologized for the lack of an umbrella.

"It's pouring outside." He sighed, listening to the pounding of the rain, as he did the buttons of his flannel shirt, "Wait here."

"We don't need-" Reba couldn't even finish her question when Brock had opened her door and threw his flannel button-down to keep her head dry. Then she found herself having to proclaim, "Brock! You don't have to carry me!"

He danced into puddles, hair falling and staying in his eyes as he refused to admit his struggles in carrying Reba over one shoulder and her heels in his other hand. When they reached his front steps, her started to fumble for his keys and she kissed him adoringly on the cheek.

"And thank you for that." She slipped her arm around his, watching a smile grow on his face as he was trying to catch his breath. As soon as Reba turned on the lights, Brock was closing up and shaking the water out of his blond hair like a wet dog.

Tiredly, he started to peel his white undershirt off of him. Sliding off the heavy jacket, Reba couldn't help but stare but turned around with embarrassment that she was still checking out his body after how many years of seeing him around the house shirtless. She remembered how much he did that back in those hot summer days of their first few years of matrimony and she recalled how she never did complain about that.

"Do you have something I can change into?" Reba pointed at her much-too-formal attire.

"Just dig through my dresser, you can take my bedroom. I'll be in the restroom. Just throw some clothes out for me too, okay?" He had his bundle of wet clothes in his arms as he directed where they should change. They may have been ripping each other's clothes off but there was still left some courtesy between the two of them. She was halfway up the stairs, "Hey Red?"

"Hmmm?" Her bare feet were visible from where he was standing.

"Never mind." Brock chuckled, as she shuffled upstairs with mild annoyance. He was merely going to suggest leaving a drawer for her things but then again, he liked seeing her wear his clothes. After all, a distracted car ride sneaking glances at her in his leather jacket proved that much to Brock.

* * *

Reba had closed the door behind her and stepped into his plain old bachelor bedroom. Weeks of not visiting this particular room showed some considerable renovation along with the rest of the condo. There was a small television in the corner and golf clubs sprawled on the carpet next to a stack of sports magazines. She rolled her eyes at his unmade bed and made her way to the dresser pressed against the looming white walls while pulling down the zipper on the side of her dress.

She grabbed two sets of outfits for the two of them. Brock was still downstairs when she ran over to the bathroom to leave a pile of clothes for him on the counter. Slipping some dry towels onto the racks, she had to laugh at the growing pile of wet, old towels next to his bathtub.

He uses too much detergent. Reba thought as she slammed the dresser shelves shut, dressed in a large but soft old t-shirt and a pair of his boxers that were barely any longer than the shirt she had on. Pulling her hair into a small ponytail, her ears perked to the sound of water running in the bathroom and Brock singing to a song he had blasted in his truck.

Walking over to his bed with plans to casually make it, she accidentally bumped into his nightstand. Something had rolled off and her eyes narrowed in suspicion as she picked up the empty prescription bottle that had fallen to the ground. Her toes furrowed in the carpet as she glazed over the many empty bottles sprawled all over his night stand. Two a day after each meal could not have accumulated to this many empty bottles of antidepressants.

"Oh." Reba turned around to catch Brock walking into his room. For the first time, she noticed just how much weight by the gauntness in his cheeks and she noticed how much paler he had gotten as compared to his regular tan, "I didn't realize you were still...I'll head out."

"What's going on?"" Reba took a half-full bottle tightly in her clenched fist, her voice prompting him to stick where he was.

"Reba," He sounded so forlorn, so defeated.

"That's not what I asked," Reba walked over to Brock, chucking one bottle at his feet in shock, "I mean, what is your therapist saying about this? Did she up your medication?"

"No." He refused to look her in the eye, before he revealed, "I've stopped going."

"What? Why would you do that?" She shouted at him, waving her hands threateningly at him.

"Because she told my depression was getting worse!" Each word was like a stab in the stomach to Brock.

"When did all this start?" Reba mumbled, realizing why he was going through the medication so quickly.

"I don't know, about three weeks ago." He warily answered with a flourish of his hands.

"Brock, darling? I know you're a _little_ touched in the head right now but," Reba enunciated each word understandingly before erupting,"This IS DRUG ABUSE! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU, BROCK."

Her empathetic pat had turned into a painful slap as Brock flinched for cover.

"I mean, you could have gotten seriously hurt, you butt!" Reba was screeching at him, pounding on his chest until she concluded her ramblings, "How could you be so selfish, Brock? What would we all do if something happened to you? Do you have any idea how serious this is? Your little addiction has its consequences, Brock! You've put the entire family through enough crap, Brock!" And before she could control herself, she had buried her head in his chest, weakly adding, "You've put _me_ through enough crap."

"Everything's my fault." Brock closed his eyes, too numb to respond to Reba's touch. "I'm sorry."

"Please tell me this is going to stop," Reba pushed herself off of Brock's chest, motioning to the hill of empty pill bottles.

"I just want to be," The words were staggering out of his mouth slowly and painfully, "happy."

"Go on." Reba prodded.

"I take two, I'm still not feeling right. So I just pop a few more in my mouth, and sometimes it just works." His eyes were turning bloodshot as his voice was breaking down.

"Come here." Seeing Brock's eyes get red and puffy made her own water and she opened her arms to pull him into a tight embrace.

"Reba?" She responded to the call of her name with a tighter grip, and felt her heart race with his command, "Can you just...stay with me?"

**A/N: Meant to post this earlier but then again, think of it as a Happy Monday gift :)**

**Your thoughtful reviews are so dear to me! Seriously, they motivate me so much! **

**Thank you for reading!**


	11. Chapter 11

"How many did you take today?" Reba hoarsely asked, feeling all the weight he was carrying shift over to her, reluctant to know the answer.

"I don't know." He murmured, falling back onto his bed, pushing up the sleeves of his baseball t-shirt.

"Brock." Reba bit her lip, crawling on the bed next to him.

"Five or six," He almost inaudibly as Reba slapped him as she mouthed "what?" at him. Clearly it was a question of shock, not of inability to hear.

"I just want to get better." Brock continued as Reba was trying to come up with the words to say, "I just want it to happen soon."

"You have to be patient," Reba was so desperate for Brock to understand the words, leaning back against the headboard with frustration. She realized how deafening the silence in the room was. She suddenly remembered what it was like to be so unable to sleep, then sleeping, then waking up in the middle of the night so sad and frightened with loneliness. Strangely, she knew what his argument was going to be.

"I don't want to think about it." He wasn't going to tell her how bad it was to just feel so helpless.

"Don't blame yourself." Reba wrapped her arms around from the back of his shoulders, feeling him shrivel at her touch. He breathed heavily, resting his head on her chest and was rubbing her forearm slowly as he stared off into the distance, wondering how he could force himself to trust those words.

"It hurts. Physically, did you know that?" Brock could feel Reba bobbing her head as he allowed her fingers to massage his head.

"I know exactly how it feels, Brock. I know what it's like to think it's the noble thing to hold it all in. I know how you think it's somehow all your fault." Reba's voice sounded like a lullaby to Brock's ears, and so simply added, "And it's up to you to pick yourself off the ground and walk on."

"I really hope so." Brock sighed apprehensively, slightly turning his head to the side so he could catch Reba giving him an optimistic and supporting expression. "Reba?"

"Hmmm?" Her fingers slowly kneaded through his hair.

"Nothing." He gulped when he much rather tell her that how much he loved her.

"Go to sleep, Brock." Reba smiled encouragingly at him and watch him obey her orders. She watched his whole body relax with each inhale and exhale of air, saw how his eyes were darting around under his closed lids. That was when he opened one eye and asked her if she could stay until he fell asleep.

Half an hour later, Reba was sitting in darkness, staring off into the darkness and lost in her thoughts. She sighed as she brushed her fingers against his cheeks. He was sleeping like a baby in her arms.

"Brock?" The redhead needed to confirm he was still asleep. After all, she too had some thoughts she needed to get off her mind. And this thought, she needed to say out loud before she left for home, and in a whisper she said, "Brock, I love you very much. I need you to know that."

She leaned down to press her lips against his forehead, pushing a handful of soft hair out of the way. Too quickly she sat back up and closed her eyes tightly as tears flowed freely and silently down her cheeks. Immediate coldness hit her like a sharp pain as she slipped away into the night, her heart pounding too hard to hear him mumble the same thing he had been saying in his sleep, "Stay...with...me, Reba."

* * *

She had taken a cab home.

Someone was in her room, she observed the opened bedroom door. Too soon, she noticed someone was in her bed, when she picked up a pair of pants of the ground.

"Van." She shook her barely-dressed son-in-law, too tired to even ask him why he was drooling all over her bed, "Go on back to your own room."

"Mrs. H," Reba could smell the stench of alcohol on him when he spoke up in confusion, groggily catching the time on his watch,"What are you doin' in our room at three in the morning?"

"This is _my_ room, Van." She collected all of his scattered clothes.

"Where's Cheyenne?" Van had the persistence to ask, looking around the master bedroom as if he still believed it was his room.

"In your guys's room," Reba prodded him with the armful of clothes so he could roll himself off, "Come on, get up."

"Well, what have you been doin' at three in the morning?" Van leaned his head against her doorway, already drooling as the clothes were sliding out of his arms.

"Go on back to your own room." Reba firmly replied, giving a sharp slap on the arm to wake him up some more, "Van?"

"Alright," He sleepily drawled. Only when he had entered his own room, did Reba close the door of her own room with a loud sigh. She attempted to get some sleep but couldn't and decided being useful. It was early enough for Cheyenne to be on her way out to her six a.m. jog.

"Mom?" Cheyenne slipped one ear bud on, watching her mother organize the spice cabinet.  
"Oh morning, sweetie." Reba stood up too fast and felt herself get dizzy, "I couldn't sleep."

"Well, you should get some sleep," Cheyenne walked over to her mother, cupping her cheeks with her hands and studying the bags under her eyes. Going out with Barbra Jean and going out with Sadie all night after a full day of work and keeping house couldn't be healthy for her mother. Reba took her daughter's hand to pat to hide the discomfort of hiding what she was really up to, "I gotta go, my friends are waiting at the park and I'm already late. Van woke me up when he came in around three thirty in the morning. Can you believe it?"

"He-" If Van had been on her bed, that would've blown her cover so she kept her mouth shut, "At least he didn't drive drunk."

"Yeah," Cheyenne nodded with an incredulous expression, slipping on the other ear bud, "See you later, Mom. Love ya!"

She was barely staying awake by the time she was eating breakfast with Barbra Jean, listening to Cheyenne and Van bicker about him hanging out with his "stupid" friends. An hour-long nap and two cups of coffee seemed to be all that was going to keep her alive for the day.

She suddenly snapped back to reality when a honk was heard outside her door and Van headed out with a comment that made all of them think twice.

"Let's throw Van a party." Barbra Jean had her eyes wide open, ready for more fun.

"You know what? That's a great idea!" Cheyenne had to give props to her stepmother, "Mom? Can we really, this afternoon at the house?"

"Fine." Though she was tired, she wanted to show her son-in-law how proud she was too.

And as they all scattered to get ready, Kyra was the only one who thought of the invite list.

"I'll call Dad."

"NO!" Barbra Jean's words mirrored Reba's thoughts as the two women turned to face the fifteen year old. Reba's heart was pounding at the thought of Brock, after all that had happened. After all that they had confided in each other, after she admitted she loved him.

"Things are still not going to change, huh?" Kyra huffed as she walked to her mother's side, unaware of whether to add in a sarcastic remark or to ask for help. She chose the latter, "Mom, Barbra Jean's hurt. I don't want to see her like this, Dad has to come home where he belongs."

"Honey, all we can do is sit here and wait. What happens between them is their business," Reba swallowed, unable to meet her daughter's eyes.

"No, they never even tried. Dad didn't try when Barbra Jean kicked them out and Barbra Jean is trying to go to couple's therapy." Kyra persisted on, "Mom, we _have_ to butt in."

"Kyra, I don't think I'm the person to do that," Reba laughed out at the thought of trying to intervene between her ex-husband and his former mistress.

"You're the only one who they actually listen to and trust." Kyra shrugged.

"Sweetie," Reba sighed, hating herself for being such a hypocrite, "I'm sorry but I can't."

"Why not, Mom?" Kyra's voice showed her disapproval, "I mean, how do you expect them to 'fix their problems' if you're out all night with them doing who knows what?"

"Honey, what goes on with your father is none of my business, okay?" Reba exasperatedly remarked.

"I'm not talking about Dad, I'm talking about you going out to bars with Barbra Jean," Kyra raised an eyebrow. Suddenly, the way her mother had answered suddenly made sense, "Oh my God. You're already involved."

"Kyra." Reba watched her daughter back away with hesitancy.

"You and Dad." Kyra pointed, her voice getting quieter. If what Kyra was thinking turned out to be true, this was certainly going to change everything, "Mom, tell me the truth."

**A/N: This chapter was the one I've been waiting to write! Well, what do you think, kind readers? Please review!  
**


	12. Chapter 12

Reba sucked at this. She really did to have a fifteen year old interrogate her on the basis of her affair with Brock.

"I mean, when did all this begin?" Kyra's words only sounded biting to Reba.

"Kyra, it's not your concern." Reba was, after all, her mother.

"Yes it is, Mom!" Kyra forgot all about being calm, "How could you do this after all you've ever taught us about morals? How could you do what Barbra Jean did to you? Is this some sort of sick revenge?"

"Your father," Reba began, unable to look her daughter in the eyes, "I..."

She needed him. He needed her. How could Kyra understand the complicated bond the two of them had shared for so many decades?

"Do you love him still?" Shakily, she watched her mother catch her breath trying to decide how to answer her question.

"I don't." She lied, staring blankly right into her daughter's eyes.

"Then why, _why_ are you doing this?" Kyra was going to stay strong for Barbra Jean's sake. The ordinarily bubbly blonde was going through crap, "All this time, you're the reason they don't stay around to fix their problems."

"You're the one who begged me to take Barbra Jean out!" Reba placed a hand on her hip. It was too early for this kind of confrontation.

"To take her mind off of the separation," Kyra glared at her, "I never asked you to screw around with Dad."

"Kyra Eleanor Hart, you watch your mouth." Reba shot back.

"I never would have thought you would do this, Mom." There was disgust in her voice, a little loss of respect for her mother.

"Sweetie-" She was trying so hard to reach out to Kyra.

"No, Mom. I'm tired of being the only adult in this crazy family. Just stop this affair. It isn't healthy for anybody and we both know Dad belongs back home." Home, as in three doors away from Reba, never sounded so distant to her ears, "Dad belongs there with Barbra Jean, Henry, and me because that's his family now, okay? You aren't his wife anymore. That's just the way things are."

"Kyra." Reba gravely murmured.

"I want things the way they were." Kyra cried out before she headed out the house. Lost in her thoughts, Reba turned her gaze from the door when Cheyenne walked back into the kitchen.

"Mom, what's wrong?" Cheyenne frowned as her mother sat, trembling from head to toe.

"Nothing, sweetie." She smiled, as much as it seemed to pain her, "What's up?"

"Is this the number for the dish?" She pointed to a page in the phone book as Reba nodded,"Alright, can you call the satellite company then? Thank you, Mommy. _I love you._"

This time Cheyenne emphasized those words she said too many times to her mother; it looked as if she needed to hear those words this time.

When Reba fumbled for the phone, she found her fingers taking control. She blankly recited the numbers in the yellow pages and typed in other ones. Ample time waiting for the other line to pick up, it still took her breath away in surprise when the man on the other line began to speak.

"Hello?"

"Brock." She whimpered out, stifling her sobs as her entire chest ached.

"Reba? What's wrong?" Brock tensed up, the hairs on the back of his arm rising as he leaped out of his couch. She was crying, she was in pain; Brock could tell that much.

"I need you." She mouthed.

"What?" All he heard was breathing, as he dug around his pockets for his keys, "I'm on my way, honey."

"Come here quickly." Her inaudible commands all sounded like she was blowing air in the receiver.

"I can't hear you, angel. Don't worry, I'll be there as soon as I can." Brock patiently reiterated, turning on his car engine.

"Okay." Pressing the phone closer to her face, she buried her face in her arms on the dining table. The dial tone blared in her ear and all she could do was cry. How was she going to end what she had with Brock, the man who knew her so well, when he could always be there reading her mind? How could she when he was always going to be _in_ her mind?

* * *

Brock Hart walked into Reba's living room, confusedly looking around the half-decorated living room.

"What's going on, sport?" He caught Jake pumping air into balloons on the couch.

"We're throwing a party for Van for his football achievements." Jake answered, throwing his hands in the air, "And when I pass the next level on my Game boy, they just tell me I've played enough for the day."

Brock chuckled, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Hey Jake buddy? Where's your mom?"

"In her room." Jake shrugged as Brock was already running up the stairs, thanking his nine-year-old.

Reba was sleeping when Brock found him, all curled up, mascara smudged on her pillows. He closed her bedroom door as he creeped over to her side. Sitting down carefully so not to wake her, he couldn't shake off a feeling of guilt noticing the redness of her face.

He found himself reclining next to her, propped on an elbow and just staring at how perfectly peaceful she looked.

"Hey," A smile lit up on his face while she blinked rapidly, gathering her surroundings and quickly sitting up and turning her face away from him, embarrassed that she was crying.

"I'm here. I'll always be here." She let him rub her arm comfortingly as he waited for her to talk about what was on her mind.

"What do you think about us?" Reba bluntly revealed the roots of her trouble.

"Do you want me to be honest?" He started once his mouth stopped opening to answer before his mind had time to process.

"Brutally honest."

"I love you." How many times did he have to tell her for her to understand that he truly meant it?

"Brock..." She pulled up her knees to her chest, wondering why she was so unable to repeat the words she told him last night as he slept.

"I think we should just remain friends," Kyra's hurtful words echoed in Reba's ears. She was supposed to be Mom, always knowing what was the right thing to do.

"I don't understand." Brock furrowed his brow, "I thought we were taking it slow. So that we can be together."

"We're divorced, Brock. It isn't right for us to act this way," Reba bit the bottom of her lip, "Anyways, I think you should try talking to Barbra Jean. You guys still have a chance."

"I'm signing the papers today, Reba." He softly continued, almost sure fighting a lost cause.

"Please work it out with Barbra Jean. Go to therapy. Talk it out." Stay with me. Don't leave me. I love you.

The conflicting words was tearing Reba apart and when Brock's strong arms wrapped tightly around her, she didn't push him away. He could feel her throbbing against his chest every time he pressed his mouth against her temples, could feel her cold fingers run over his back each time he attempted to pull her closer. He had made up his mind so long ago. Cheek against her wet face, he had to wonder why she was pushing him away, now of all time.

"Reba, I'm going to stop with the anti-depressants." Was she worried thinking that she wasn't the reason he was once so happy?

"That's not the problem." She breathed against his neck.

"Then what-"Brock raised his voice.

"Try with Barbra Jean." She pushed his arms off of her, struggling to get off her bed and standing up. He watched her from behind as her head slowly turned around, arms folded, wondering how to tell him that she would wait for him, "It doesn't have to be like this."

Uncertain of whether she was talking about his crumbling marriage with Barbra Jean or this illicit love affair with Reba, he shook his head resolutely.

"You're more than a friend to me, Reba," Brock was so hurt that she thought he would walk away from the mother of his three children and his soul mate. He, too, was conflicted of whether to fight for her or set her free, "What am I supposed to do?"

"Kiss me one more time." Reba couldn't imagine ending their relationship so badly, just like the first time. She just wanted to taste his lips again, and mentally cursed herself for being unable to say "one last time". He crawled off where he was sitting on her bed and walked over to the other side gingerly, taking her face by his two hands.

Tenderly, he kissed her, tasting the salty tears trailing down both of their faces. Something to remember this fantastic but brief happiness they shared, Reba thought. She wasn't going to regret anything that happened, but she was just praying they don't fall deeper in something that was only going to end badly. After all, twenty years of devotion into a marriage only ended in divorce for her.

"Don't be this way." He whispered into her ear, "Didn't that kiss prove anything? We have chemistry, we have sparks."

"Pretty soon, we'll both get burned." Reba meekly smiled at him, patting him on the back and wiping off her tears. There she was again, strong and independent Reba Hart.

**A/N: Wanted to show a weaker side of Reba. Hope it didn't seem too unbelievable but then again, how does it feel to lose someone twice over?**


	13. Chapter 13

"Brock came to talk last night." Barbra Jean sipped on her martini, watching Reba intently for her reaction. It was another bar night for the two gals and Reba just felt like drinking.

"Oh?" Reba stirred her drink with her straw, seeming not so surprised.

"Cheers to me, sister." Barbra Jean smiled big, raising her glass in the air, "Guess what?"

"Brock's moving back in?" Reba shrugged, reaching for the jello shots on their table.

"Are you kidding? Nope." Barbra Jean laughed, sensing something was off when she caught Reba's eyes. They looked so distant, "Brock and I finalized our divorce. The papers are in the mailing machine!"

"What?" Reba slammed her empty glass down.

"That's what we had a nice long talk about." Barbra Jean nodded earnestly, "We just had to see face to face that we weren't looking for the same things in our relationship. After all, I think the only reason he even tried was for Henry's sake."

"That's not true, Barbra Jean." Reba quipped.

"It's over. I'm over Brock." Barbra Jean confidently bobbed her head, "Besides, my only regret is that I'm no longer your ex-husband's new wife. How am I gonna ever introduce myself when I'm around you again?"

"As my friend," Reba laughed matter-of-factly.

"Your _what_?" Barbra Jean had a high pitched gasp, pressing her hand to her chest. An even bigger reason to celebrate was in order.

* * *

"Cheyenne, do you want to talk?" Kyra was already feeling sorry for her older sister, so dejectedly concentrating on the home phone in high hopes that it was going to ring soon.

"Hmmm?" The teenager was already walking over to sit right next to the blonde, who at least attempt to disguise her low spirits for her little sister, "It's nothing. I'm just waiting for Van to call."

"I know." Kyra put down the book she was reading, walking over to the couch from the chair.

"He's going to call, right?" She seemed to shrink in Van's old sweatshirt and her sweatpants.

"Van's probably anxious to talk to you." Kyra firmly answered, so to watch Cheyenne shake off the feeling of missing someone so much.

"Alright, we'll talk." Cheyenne shifted her body to face Kyra eagerly, throwing the phone on the coffee table. Besides, the two sisters deserved a girl's night as much as their mother and stepmother did. "How are you feeling?"

"Cheyenne, can I tell you a secret?" After all she discovered, Kyra was feeling just a bit uncertain about how she felt.

* * *

"Reba, come on!" Barbra Jean ran back to the table with about three men in tow. She folded her arms impatiently and then waved her hand, "Hey fellas, can you give Red and me a minute here?"

"I'm fine!" Reba really was, she was satisfied with her drinks. She wasn't in a mood to mingle.

"Well you're stepping on my divorce party," Barbra Jean jumped back onto a stool, whining, "What's wrong? It's no fun just sitting here, Reba."

Barbra Jean didn't need to mention but usually, the redhead acts extremely flirty at the bar. If the blonde decided to let loose tonight because she was going to single, Reba's actions could only be explained by one reason.

"Is it Brock?" She knowingly asked.

"Noooooo." Reba had Barbra Jean's trademark lying face on, "Did Kyra tell you anything?"

"She didn't have to." Barbra Jean blinked rapidly, "I knew, Reba."

"Oh." She didn't know what to say,whether she should be apologizing.

"Yeah, my private detective told me." Barbra Jean nodded, not bothering to add that she had the pictures to prove in her purse.

"What?" The word dumbly came out.

"And you, my friend, certainly like to be on top," The wink she threw at Reba was enough to make her face match her hair color, "Reba! Don't worry about it, your butt looks great! Have you been doing squats?"

"Oh God." Maybe she was going to regret the short-lived affair after all.

"Reba, you don't have to worry about me. There's always been something about the two of you that I could never figure out. Go make him happy because he's been so miserable for the past four years." Barbra Jean never felt so free, "You two have my blessing."

"It's a lot to consider," Reba sadly shook her head. She needed some fresh air.

* * *

"What? How could you say those things to Mom?" Cheyenne incredulously looked at her little sister.

"Why are they fooling around like it's some sort of game?" Kyra was getting defensive.

"It's not a game for them, Kyra! Maybe you're too young but I don't think you understand how much Mom and Dad love each other. If Mom really is back with Dad, you let her be. She's Mom. She knows that's what's right in her heart and what is the right thing to do. You have no right to butt in." She pointed a finger at her sister.

"Clearly, everyone in this house has skewed values of what 'right' is," Kyra snidely remarked.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Guess what, I'm seventeen and pregnant! How am I ever gonna win winter formal?" Kyra mocked.

"You are absolutely heartless." Cheyenne scoffed, not letting those those typical words harm her after hearing them so many times in her life. As Cheyenne was jumping up and ready to walk away, Kyra tugged at her arm.

"No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it." Sincerely apologetic over her burst of anger, Cheyenne had to hesitate, "You're a good person who loves her baby and misses her husband even though he decided to split up his family."

"Think about it," She nudged Kyra with a shrug and smile and added, "How much do you think Mom misses being with Dad if I can miss Van this much just because he's in Denver?"

* * *

"Why you standing all by yourself here, lil' lady?" Reba frowned and moved herself under the streetlamps in the back lot of the bar. If she was drunk, and if Barbra Jean was standing next to her and not inside chatting up some firemen, she would flirt. As for now, she was very annoyed by the rambunctiously drunk stranger staggering toward her.

Reba's decision to ignore him failed as he wheeled around forcefully with his hand.

"Hey, what's the deal?" He spat out.

"Leave me alone." She glared at him, prying his hands off of her.

The drunk started to chuckle as Reba quickly switched from annoyance to anger when she caught him licking his lips.

"I'm going back into the bar, mister. If you give me any more trouble, I'm gonna call the police." Reba levelly told him, reaching for the door knob and choosing to ignore his salacious comment.

"Why don't you come on over to my place? I can shooow ya a reeeal good time." He boasted before slapping her on the butt. Reba turned around ready to slap him but he had already flew to the ground with a thump.

"What the hell?" The drunk man drawled before giving the man wrestling him down a good punch in the stomach.

"Stay the hell away from her, you bastard." Reba quickly identified Brock's voice and the sound of another punch. Her eyes had to adjust to the darkness of the parking lot as they strayed farther and farther away from the illuminated side walk.

"You should tell your girlfriend to stop being such a whore! She provoked me!" The man's voice echoed through the lot as Brock slowly came back into the view a few minutes later.

"Go home!" Brock growled back as he made his way to Reba, changing his tone, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Reba sighed, catching the tiny cut near his mouth, "Why are you here?"

"I'm your guys's designated driver," He absentmindedly answered as he eyed her from head to toe, "Hey, you sure you're fine?"

"I told you, Brock. I'm fine," She gritted through her teeth, not at all knowing where this anger was coming from.

"Okay, geez." He sensed it, the anger.

"Don't be picking fights for me, okay?" The sight of a bruise forming on his arm made her realize what was so irritating, she didn't like seeing him hurt, especially not in a bar fight because that just wasn't who Brock was, "You're not my _boyfriend_, Brock. I could have handled this by myself before you decided to make a fool of yourself."

"Did you see that guy? He was drooling all over you!" He rolled up his sleeves, feeling the rise in heat.

"It doesn't matter! I don't need you to rescue me." Reba quipped at him.

"Why do you always act this way?" Brock raised his voice, "You never needed me, you never tell me how you're feeling-"

"Me? That was you, you mo-ron." Reba defended herself, "I wouldn't be standing here alone dealing with frisky drunks if you decided to give a damn about _us_."

"It wouldn't hurt to button up your shirt," He remarked to get an expected death glare.

"So you agree with him," Her voice lowered to match his, referring to the harasser of a few moments prior.

"Reba..." He sighed, knowing he had crossed a line with that sexist comment.

"No, I know what you mean, Brock. I'm just your whore." She walked right up to him, the words crescendoing, "I'm just the slut you've been sleeping with until you find your third wife!"

"You know that's not what I meant, Reba." Brock felt as if he had to yell to get the point across. He sure regretted treating the woman he respected the most like that.

"I gave you everything, Brock." Reba felt the sharp jabs in her abdomen, her veins throbbing with emotion of realizing what the past few months were to her, "I was your friend!"

"We aren't friends! I don't want to be friends!" Brock roared, thinking of how quickly they seemed to realize they could never be just friends when their affair first began, "How could you say that? Do you have sex with your 'friends'? No wonder I keep hearing you're Barbra Jean's slutty friend."

"I don't ever want to see or talk to you ever again." She narrowed her eyes, "And another piece of advice, keep it in your pants next time." The sound of her footsteps resonated against the concrete as she walked away. They sped up as she walked back to where Brock was standing,"And one more thing, don't ever get into fights for this _slut_ again."

**A/N: Happy Saturday so enjoy the longer chapter! Thanks for reading and remember to drop a review! I have to be able to tell if you guys are mad at me for this chapter...  
**


	14. Chapter 14

"Cheyenne!" The twenty one year old had just locked up the front door with Elizabeth in arms and Jake in tow when she saw her father running up the front porch.

"Dad, what happened to you?" Cheyenne gasped, as her hand involuntarily reached for her father's face. Normally clean shaven, there was slight stubble but that was the least of her concerns when she noticed the cuts on his lips and cheek and the slight purple of a bruise forming on his arm. Something told her this had to do with last night as she turned to Jake, worried about how he might take their father's poor appearance.

"I need to see your mother." Brock waved off his own injuries as he desperately pleaded with Cheyenne. He had been calling her, e-mailing her, trying anything to get a hold of her but Reba made it clear she did not want to see or talk to him.

"She's sleeping." Cheyenne answered, remembering all too well the same feeling in the air when her parents fought, "I'm taking everyone out to the park because she seemed kinda tense when she came home last night. What happened, I mean I thought you were supposed to pick her and Barbra Jean up?"

"I need to apologize." Brock continued. He hadn't slept all night as he tossed and turned trying to find the right words to say, "I said some things. I just want to talk to her."

"Did you two get into an argument?" Jake finally perked up enough to ask as father and sister turned to glance at him.

"Why don't you wait a while, Dad?" Cheyenne hesitantly turned to face the door of the house, "I'm sure she's still come around."

"Alright," Brock finally agreed, sitting down on the bench, "I'll just sit here."

"Dad." It hurt Cheyenne to see him like this when they both knew that Reba was never going to yield to his apologies for at least a couple of days. Pretty soon the silent riff between them was enough to wedge them apart. Brock had endured enough nights on the couch, in the backyard, and eventually at his condo to show Cheyenne that it was lethal to their relationship. She knew she had to talk to her mother about this but maybe she could do some more listening before talking, "Come on, why don't you come to the park with us?"

* * *

The house was so quiet.

As much as she wanted to appreciate the effort, there was something unbearable about the loneliness.

Reba turned to her side, listlessly slipping her hands under the pillows only to stumble on something besides the cool, soft underside of her pillow covers. And when she pulled out the item, she could only gaze at it with the same intensity at which she was looking at it the night before. It was their wedding picture.

Last night, she felt something. Anger, regret, sadness, happiness, a headache. And this time, she felt nothing.

It was as if she couldn't bare to place any emotion looking at a picture taken some twenty five years ago, made some unwritten oath not to cry knowing that the tears would never stop if she did start to cry. Her eyes wandered over the framed picture, noticing the big smiles on both their faces. Brock. That was all she saw, with those clear blue eyes and broad shoulders and that beautiful blond head of hair. In sudden anger, Reba let the photograph fly across the room, where it hit the wall and fell. Shattered glass scattered all over the floor as she kneeled down with a groan, remembering that breaking things usually meant cleaning it up. She picked up the photograph without looking, sliding it away from mess.

Seating herself on the ground, Reba curiously picked up a piece of broken glass. She let the cool, smooth glass run over the inside of her arm which tingled to the touch. Goosebumps were rising as she traced over the faint, scars from ages past, from when she cared about the thought of Brock leaving her side. Why did it seem as if she cared so much more this time around? The redhead scoffed. Finger nails never resulted in much and suddenly she just wanted to break away from the unbearable numbness she had awoken with. Turning the piece of glass to its sharp side, she pressed it into her skin, deeper and deeper. Almost accidentally and almost purposely, she ran a horizontal incision across her skin and gasped.

Once was enough, she told herself. There was no no need for another downward spiral when life was all about overcoming the obstacles.

She was already regretting her own actions an hour later, as she emptied the shards of glass into the trashcan and heard the front door slamming shut. Her family was home.

"Mom?" Cheyenne's voice rang across the house, as she made her way up the stairs," We're home!"

She barely had time to react when three short knocks were followed by Cheyenne peaking her head into the master bedroom.

"Hey, sorry we came home a little later than expected. I had to buy some stuff for Elizabeth before she starts preschool tomorrow." She lingered at the door way before jokingly eyeing the clock, both hands on the 12, "Sleep okay?"

"Hey listen, sorry I snapped at you and your sister yesterday," Reba sighed out loud, pulling down on her sleeves.

"It's fine." Cheyenne reassured, "Hey Mom? Dad's downstairs. He says he wants to talk."

About what Cheyenne Montgomery was still unsure of because after pitifully watching a spiritless Brock drag himself around made it certain that the best thing she could do is sit back. What she failed to mention was that her father was not downstairs but standing in the hallway.

"I don't want to see him." Reba waved off her daughter, set on making the bed and inconspicuously hiding her wedding picture .

"I think you should." Cheyenne mumbled.

"What goes on between your father and me is between us." Reba shook her head.

"That's not what you told Kyra." Cheyenne bravely remarked, incredulous that Reba couldn't see how much the possibility of her parents getting back together would affect all of them.

"What did you say?" Reba narrowed her eyes as Cheyenne immediately cowered.

"Uh nothing," The blonde meekly grinned at her mother as she slipped out of the room. With a sigh, Reba walked toward the door to shut it but it had swung forwards with a bang.

"Reba, I need to talk to you." Brock was standing at the door.

"I think we did enough talking last night," Reba casually stated.

"Reba, I'm so-"

"I don't care."

"But I just-"

"Get out." She finally raised her voice, pointing at the hallway behind Brock.

"Reba, please-"

"I said get out."  
Defeated, Brock walked out of the room as Reba shut the door behind him. Involuntarily flinching, Reba leaned against the door with a sigh. As much as her heart wished she could forgive Brock there and then, her mind was telling her to wait and see just exactly the two of them meant to each other. And for now, Reba only felt like Brock's mistress.

* * *

Brock had some time to kill before the next round of his golf tournament and he was trying with all his might not to let his mind wander to Reba. Then he pulled his cell phone out, calling a number he had not called in a long time.

"Hello? Hey, this is Brock Hart?" The therapist was certainly surprised to hear from him, as Brock could tell from the perkiness and rapidness of her voice, "Yes, I'd like to schedule an appointment."

He, for the first time since he was diagnosed with depression, wanted to get better. Brock wanted to get better for Reba because it seemed the only logical thing to do in his head.

"Alright, thanks." He hung up the phone as he fidgeted restlessly on his leather couch. Finally, he walked up to the bathroom and glanced at his tired and haggard face in the mirror. Slowly but intently, he shaved. He washed his face, put on some aftershave. He brushed his teeth.

One step at a time, that was how he was going to find his way back to where he belonged, with the love of his life.

**A/N: I know, we've endured through six seasons of them not being together but I promise, they'll kiss and make up...eventually. **

**As always, Thank you for reading!**


	15. Chapter 15

The weeks had passed so quickly and it seemed that everyone was getting used to the ever awkward distance between Reba and Brock.

Yet her heart was always going to flutter, her mouth ready to ask him to stay when she saw him. A bit more politely, he would drop by the house and linger. He would proclaim his presence with any excuse such as the kids, fixing the unbroken sink, or even occasionally, loneliness. They didn't talk then, just sit there across the room and stare at the other while they weren't looking. Everyone was waiting for the day for Reba's stubbornness to subside.

And it seemed as if today was the day.

Working in the same building as Brock did mean running into him all the time. He walked into Eugene's office one afternoon as Reba's eyes perked up.

"Hey," He tried, his voice strained.

"Hello." She had to be civil.

He cleared his throat before waving a sign at Reba.

"Where's Eugene?" Brock never loathed someone as much as he did Reba's boss, "He posted a sign on my door telling my patients to go to him because I'm golfing. Now I'm going to be late to the tournament because of this."

"I'll handle it," Reba stood up from her seat, reaching out her hand. He reluctantly looked around the empty waiting room and walked towards Reba, handing her the piece of paper as their hands touched for a second. A sudden jolt of electricity ran through their bodies as their gazes locked.

"Thanks," He was thankful she at least was talking to him again among other things.

"Go on." She managed the friendly smile she gave all the patients.

"I'll talk to you later?" He hopefully asked in partial farewell.

Reba only nodded and that was enough for Brock to raise his spirits.

Eugene finally came out of his private office half an hour later to ask his receptionist for his next appointment.

"Oh Dr. Fisher?" Reba fished out the paper to give to Eugene, with a meek smile, "Brock came over to return this. He didn't appreciate your use of advertisement."

"Well I do, go slip it back on his door." He rubbed his palms together, "He doesn't even stay dedicated. Why should he deserve the prize?"

"I'm not going to do that!" She scoffed incredulously, "Why does his part-time working bother you?"

"It's not just the golf." Eugene sniffled to Reba's realization. The dentist was still pining over Barbra Jean and she had heard enough of his whiny complaints about Brock and Barbra Jean's marriage, even more now that their divorce was made public. Of course, the annoyances were mostly just about Brock, as he began once more, "I heard Brock is seeing a therapist. We all knew this day would come for that lunatic."

"He is?" Reba didn't know that he started going again.

"I wonder what it's for, do you know by any chance?" Eugene leaned across the desk, "This is going to ruin his business once I do know."

"Well it's none of yours," Reba snarled as she raised her eyebrows in defense, "And he's seeking for help. I think someone in your profession should be understanding of that."

"Not when it concerns a fake-tan, plastic, and might I add brainless Ken doll who's seeing a shrink," Eugene snickered, before launching into another rant about how much he hated Brock, "Did you hear? A few weeks back, I heard him saying he got into a bar fight. It's clear he drinks too, that ape of a man."

"I wouldn't trust gossip." Reba gritted through a fake smile. Eugene was starting to really bug her right now. Confused at her own feelings, she was only able to nod along with Eugene's comments but seeing Brock again just earlier was driving her crazy, especially since it was the first time they had spoken in weeks.

"Alright, now go tape this back up again." He shoved the paper into her hands.

"No!" She didn't mean to raise her voice but it was just foolish to continue this feud.

"Reba, as your boss, I'm asking you to do this." Eugene stood up a little taller as Reba showed her disapproval by crumbling up the paper, "I'm willing to pretend that didn't happen. Write out another one and post it."

"I'm not gonna fight your personal battles for you, Eugene. I'm your receptionist, not your war messenger. Brock doesn't deserve this kind of immature behavior, especially not from you."

"First you refuse to give me Barbra Jean's number, now this rebellion over Brock!" Eugene had his eyes wide open in anger.

"Yeah, because you're a monkey's butt." Reba's hand flew to her mouth, "I'm sorry, Eugene."

"You're fired." He hissed before walking away.

"Craaaaaaap." Reba groaned quietly. She was more worried about her quick jump to defend Brock than getting fired from a job she hated a week before Thanksgiving holiday.

* * *

"Mom, you're home early." Kyra observed as her mother walked into the living room where it seemed everyone was sitting. She already caught Van and Jake trying to steal cookies from the cookie jar in the kitchen.

"Guess what?" Cheyenne squealed, "Daddy won his tournament!"

"He actually placed!" Barbra Jean was a pitch higher than Cheyenne's high pitched squeal.

"I was just able to focus today," He knew a big part of it was due to Reba. It was time to move on to other things, "I knew if I just focused, I could succeed. I'm finished with professional golf."

Brock broke into a large grin at this point.

"Looks like I'll be seeing you daily at the building now, Reba." He raised his glass of celebratory wine to the redhead standing in front of him.

"I got fired." She felt the heat of all their eyes on her.

"What. Why?" Cheyenne was the first to wrap her arms around Reba in a comforting embrace.

"It doesn't matter. I called Eugene a monkey's butt." It sure was exhilarating, at the moment.

"He deserved that." Brock snickered as Barbra Jean and Reba only glared at him.

"Would you two stop acting like children and puttin' me in between? I'm sick of it. Sick, sick, sick!" Reba stomped back into the kitchen. When she had calmed down enough to walk back into the living room some time later, she only found Brock sitting there.

"They went to the mall." He explained before she could even ask. After all, the kids and Barbra Jean had made it obvious they wanted them to communicate, "Hey, don't worry about the job."

"Please don't start with a pep talk, Van already gave me one," Reba sat down on the couch as far away from him as she could, her eyes darting to Van enjoying a sandwich in the kitchen from the window between the two rooms.

"I'm sorry if I had to bring up that stupid sign Eugene posted on my door." Brock somehow figured out his part in this, "I shoulda just threw it away."

"It's not all about you." Reba sighed.

"Do you want to talk? I mean, can we just talk?" Brock cautiously started.

"Isn't that what we're doing right now?" She cleverly remarked at his question.

"No," He decided to make a stand. "You bring up the past because you want some closure that you can't even focus on the present. I don't want to talk about the weather or what we may have been back then. I want to talk about us. Us right now. Reba, I get I screwed up but please, just talk to me so we can mend those mistakes. Come on."

"Are you sure you don't want to talk about golf instead? Or other women?" Reba growled back, "And I told you there is no us."

"Look, I know I'm not good enough for you but please, I'm getting better." He was trying anything to be worthy enough for her.

"It doesn't have to do with that, Brock." Reba frustratedly ran a hand through her hair, "Why now?"

"I don't want to waste any more time. I just want to be with you." He pleaded, not knowing how to tell her that she meant the world to him after all that he had done to her to prove otherwise, "Don't you remember what we shared a few months ago?"

"I remember wasting my time on you three years ago," She murmured, only hurting him with reminding him how he was off with BJ when they should have been in couple's therapy.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for anything I did wrong but you have got to talk to me!" Brock demanded, "Why do you insist on fighting me on this? If you don't want this, just say it and I'll drop it! But it's clear we still lo-, it's clear we can't end this now. Not when we can have a new beginning. _Please_."

She tried to come up with the words to say but all in all, it wasn't worth it. There was nothing about her fears that Brock didn't know about, from spiders to being left all alone. Not today when she lost her job and he decided his after winning a golf tournament.

"Okay, let's talk." He turned his head so quickly to see if she was not just joking.

"Really?" He croaked and his face lit up when he saw she wasn't.

**A/N: I'm busy busy busy with the next chapter now! Review please? Thanks!  
**


	16. Chapter 16

"I still think it's pretty cool that the divorce papers came in the Wednesday right before Thanksgiving." Cheyenne patted her husband's knee as she turned to her mother to see what she thought of Brock and Barbra Jean's divorce finally being official. In fact, she was trying so hard to take her mother's mind off of not cooking the turkey that she was willing to make conversation with anything.

"YESSSSSSSSS!" Brock and Van leapt from the couch, high-fiving each other as their team scored a touchdown.

"Mom, just sit down and relax." Kyra saw that Reba was still tapping her fingers on the armrest impatiently before she jumped off her seat.

"I should be there preparing the turkey!" Reba paced back and forth behind the couch, "That's it, I'm going in."

The smell of baking potatoes automatically made her stomach grumble as she caught Barbra Jean crying as she crooned to the radio.

"Barbra Jean, you okay?" She hesitantly approached the blonde.

"What? Oh! it's just the onions. I'm going to make onion rings." Barbra Jean nodded enthusiastically.

"Do you need any help? I'll be glad to you know, cook-the-turkey." Reba shrugged, as if she wasn't bursting with the need to cook dinner on the day she actually looked forward to cooking dinner.

"Reba," Barbra Jean warned, placing the onions into a bowl. It was after all, at Reba's insistence that they all have Thanksgiving dinner together to show that they would always be a family. She was so eager to have Barbra Jean and Henry stay, she even agreed to Barbra Jean's request to cook the dinner.

"I can make the stuffing." She reached for a box of bread crumbs as Barbra Jean waved a large knife in her direction. Looking from Barbra Jean to the knife, Reba groaned out loud, "Come on, can I do anythin' for you?"

"You could bring the artichoke dip into the living room on your way out," Barbra Jean smiled in anticipation, eyeing the chips and dip sitting on the kitchen island.

"Fine!" She groaned, as she snatched the plate and walked out, mumbling to herself, "I'll tell you one thing-AHHH! Brock!"

"I'm so sorry." He instinctively reached to steady her as she eyed the mess of chips on the ground and the dip splattered across their clothes and the floor. Their eyes met again and she broke the moment, "I'll clean this up."

"No, it's fine," Reba shook her head, kneeling down to scoop up the chips back into the plastic plate, "Go on and watch the game."

"I'll get paper towels." He ignored her request, stumbling into and out of the kitchen.

* * *

When the mess on the floor was taken care of, he couldn't help but look at a more beautiful mess of a woman as they stood side by side in the downstairs bathroom rearranging themselves.

"Guess what?" Brock braved the silence, "I'm getting off the anti-depressants."

"That quickly?" Reba turned to face him, something close to pride in her heart.

"I guess my therapist is just being cautious due to, you know." Brock shrugged, referring to the brief period he was abusing his medication, "But I just felt like everything makes so much more sense now. I've come to terms with my life, if you will."

"I'm happy." She said simply, bumping her hip in some congratulatory manner against his as he pulled her closer to him with an arm around her.

"I couldn't have done it without you." Brock humbly mumbled, watching her brush off some crumbs off his shirt as she buried her face against his shoulder for the longest time before she breathed heavily, moving against the sink counter and staring at their reflections.

"Please, I was no help." It was just opportunistically fortunate that Brock happened to win a golf tournament, become officially divorced and single, and made his amends with Reba. Her massive trust in Brock, mainly from knowing him so well, did help so much. He needed the idea of Reba lecturing him in his head to pull himself back up.

"You've got some of it in your hair," Remembering it was supposed to be a happy holiday, he chuckled as his finger rode along the waves in her hair, wiping the dip off the red hair. He proceeded to lick it off his fingers as Reba mouthed a "yuck" as she continued to wipe down her jeans with a wet towel.

"Careful, you have no clue what I put in my hair." Reba joked as he patted his stomach in delight. Her hair always smelled inviting to Brock, so hairspray and mousse wasn't going to stop him now.

"What? The dip's delicious." He continued to lick his fingers with a shrug as he looked endearingly at her and he laughed out, "Hey, you've got some on your cheek."

"Thanks a lot." She sarcastically shot back as he approached her to scoop up some more dip to put in his mouth, then she jokingly added, "Why don't you just lick it off of me, you big puppy?"

Brock chuckled as he reached for her cheek and for a second, he was just cupping her face. Almost automatically, they both leaned in closer, suddenly hungry for each other. His eyes were lingering on those lips. Brock was so close to her, their noses barely brushing against each other as her hands were anxious to grasp unto him.

"Hey Mrs. H-" Van had the feeling he had walked into something he wasn't supposed to as he quickly darted away from the scene.

"Van." Reba called out, throwing a timid smile in Brock's direction as she ran a hand up his chest, realizing what could have happened with that almost kiss. "Come back here."

"Sup," Van stuffed his hands into his pockets with a bashful expression, "We're going to the park for our family tradition football playoff, Wanna go?"

" Man, when was the last time we did that?" Reba clapped her hands together delightfully.

"When my mom was in town, remember?" Brock answered, equally excited, "Well, what are we waiting for?"

* * *

Van could hardly believe how badly he and his team were losing. He frowned with his hands on his hips, watching Jake practically hand the ball to his opponent. Well, it was Kyra so Van decided he wasn't going to get angry at that.

"How's the all star football player doin'?" Reba guffawed joyfully, wrapping an arm around her daughter's shoulder after Kyra scored another touchdown for their team.

Van frowned.

"Don't worry, Van," Brock joined in with the jokes, running from the other side next to his team, "We won't tell anyone."

"Cheyenne, Jake, huddle." Van motioned to the oldest and youngest of Brock and Reba's children.

"Say, you guys thirsty?" Brock asked around as the kids raised their hands, "I'll go get some Cokes."

"Great." "Thanks." The family chorused as Brock ran to the nearest vending machine in the park. When he made his way back, he had to smile at how his big family was acting. Van was shouting inconsistently at Cheyenne, who in panic, had her pass intercepted by Kyra.

"Mom, catch!" Kyra was running down the line so quickly and the football flew over the field. Higher and higher it went until Reba caught it, her whole body hunched towards the ball.

"Catch me if you can, Jake!" Reba bantered, sprinting toward the end of the line where Team Brock and Reba and Kyra scored yet another touchdown. Her face was red, hair disheveled, and she was laughing so hard. Brock could feel the back of his neck sweat as quickly as the perspiration on the cold soda bottles. He watched Reba tie her plaid shirt around her waist casually and then dauntingly aim the football toward their nine year old son as she and Cheyenne exchanged some small talk. It was so...beautiful to see her interact with their children, the ones they made in love. The sound of her laughs echoed in his ears as all his thoughts turned to the only thing he could see in the park. He finally realized just exactly what he was saying when he told her he loved her. He loved her in everything she did, she loved her fierce and stubborn determination and her warmth and care, all exemplified by some small family football. Brock knew he had almost kissed her earlier in the bathroom but he knew he could not stall this revelation of true love.

"Brock, what are you doing?"

Right in front of everyone, he had his hands gently but forcefully around her waist and he kissed her. She fought it for a second or two but soon she wrapped her arms around his neck as she kissed him back. The autumn leaves were falling around them and it seemed the two had decided in accepting the new changes that were going to take place in their lives.

"I realized just then," Brock stumbled for the words, pressing his lips against the top of her head as she continued, knowing just what he was going to say.

"That we make a darn good team?" No, she sensed it all day too as she pulled him closer to her. Reba had felt those butterflies in her stomach every time they happened to catch each other's eye, all of which they acknowledged with brimming smiles.

"That we make a darn good team." He acknowledged, so glad to be able to be back in her life again and so ready to make this awesome team unstoppable and unbreakable.

**A/N: Alrighty, I don't like how this chapter ended but there ya go! Please leave a review!  
**


	17. Chapter 17

"I missed you so much." Reba whispered with a big grin, leaning her forehead against Brock's as she slid onto his lap. How right they seemed to fit perfectly together, as Brock wrapped an arm around her waist as he touched noses with her as they Eskimo-kissed.

After that bold kiss in front of everyone on Thanksgiving, they never officially told the kids anything. But Barbra Jean's knowing and encouraging smile, Van's hostility towards Brock whenever he was around the house, and Kyra's unusually silent disposition all told Reba and Brock that they knew something had to have led to that kiss in the park. The family didn't know much of what was going on, and frankly, neither did Brock and Reba. The two just knew they were in blissful company of each other; they felt like reckless teenagers in love.

"You never want to go out for lunch anymore," Brock indifferently declared, sliding his hands up and down her back. He kissed her adoringly on the cheek as she patted his upper leg, bursting into harmonious laughter with each ticklish kiss.

"Brock, I told you, I'm so busy tryin' to get used to sellin' houses." Reba leaned her head against his shoulder as she took in the smell of his cologne, pondering about her new job as a realtor. She liked it a lot.

"I still wished you worked across the hall from me," Brock pouted and his pout only grew as she tried to get off his lap, "Where are you going?"

"I'm hungry, you old poop." She walked to the fridge, dinner time getting closer. Lately, she didn't keep much track of time whenever Brock was around. Time would move so quickly, and pretty soon he had to drive back to his condo. But he would call her on her cell phone in perfect timing, always right when she had slipped under the covers as if he knew. Brock would always end the calls with a declaration of love as much as Reba wanted to repeat those three words to him, something would get caught in her throat.

"Do you wanna go out to dinner?" Brock raised an eyebrow, watching her look into the fridge.

"Nah." She pointed to her attire with a scrunched face.

"You look normal." He tried to figure out what was wrong with what she had on and she whipped around to glare at him.

"Oh thanks Brock, I'm glad I look fine in some old ratty sweats," She blew a raspberry at him.

"You look gorgeous." He complimented so easily, surprised at how well he used to repress these comments when he was with Barbra Jean, "Come on, the kids are all out and it's a Friday night."

It was true. Cheyenne was in Denver, Kyra was with friends, Jake had a sleepover, and Elizabeth was with the Montgomerys. No wonder she had been feeling queasy all day, she was going to be all alone with Brock for the first time in a while.

"I don't know." She grumbled, for at the same time she didn't want to cook, rubbing her stomach as if to soothe it. Then again, the weather outside was pretty dreadful.

"Well I hope you say yes." Brock looked down at the back of his hands, "Because I kinda already made reservations."

* * *

"Finally! I am starving!" Reba watched Brock walk in with the take-out. He sullenly glanced at her leaning eagerly across the table, "It smells delicious."

Brock set the paper bag of food on the table as he collapsed into a chair in front of her.

"What's wrong, Brock?" Reba started taking out the contents of the bag, nudging to where they kept the wine, "Go pick out the wine and grab some cups, will ya?"

He trudged over as Reba began opening the containers of food, the aroma of Italian food filling the room.

"Brock, what's this?" There was a long, velvet box near the bottom of the bag.

"Why don't you open it?" He wandered back with a bottle in hand and a smile on his face.

"Oh my God." The sparkling bracelet not only stunned her eyes but left her at a lost of words, "Brock, you-you have to-I can't."

"I know you always wanted diamond earrings but I saw this in a store window and I had to buy it for you," He stood next to her, taking the bracelet delicately from the box.

"Was it because this was on sale?" Reba smirked, holding out her left hand as he was undoing the latch.

"Well, of course." It was still much more expensive than those earrings she wanted but he had managed to spend all of his share of the golf tournament prize on this diamond bracelet. He had planned on giving it to her earlier over some romantic four course Italian meal but naturally, there had to be a change of plans,"But do you like it?"

"I love it." He turned her palms up as the string of diamonds went ready to go around her wrist, "Thank you, Brock."

"What happened?" He furrowed her brow at the bandaging around her wrist, short little red marks all around it as she instantly reclined her hand, pulling the sleeves of her jacket down.

"Accident." She fibbed as he grabbed her hand again.

"Reba." He seriously addressed her.

"Well, are you hungry?" Reba changed the subject too quick for his liking, trying to avoid his glance and grasp, "Mmm, that smells good!"

"What is going on here?" Brock saw her flinch as he tightly held on to her arm, dropping the bracelet on the table. His eyes just kept jumping to the inside of her wrist.

"I wanted to know that I can hurt myself more than you could ever," Reba whimpered, pulling off the bandaging so that both of them could observe the reddish scar forming on her pale skin, her voice was growing coarse,"I know, it's childish. But I've been through hell without you, Brock. Then those things you said to me that night..."

Brock understood he could either explode at her for this or comfort her. One glance at her made him choose how to react immediately.

"Honey," Brock's voice softened as he cupped her hand. He never wanted to hurt her. He never wanted to provoke her. And seeing all the faint marks on her arm alarmed him to know that this was done both recently and previously. Brock was shocked he never noticed it before, "Don't cry."

She looked up, on the verge of crying and edged forward, wanting to be hugged.

"Promise me you won't ever do this again." Brock was instructing, "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, Reba."

All there seemed to be left with were these memories that reminded them of how dark their lives were without each other. Reba, for one, couldn't imagine how they were ever going to be the same ever again. But sometimes, even Brock Hart could be completely unpredictable to Reba.

"Swear to me these will just remain scars," He rubbed his fingers over the very signs that the redhead in front of him was a survivor. A little confused, Reba watched him take her left hand up to his lips. Through teary eyes, she noticed the pain in Brock's face as he took a close look at wrist but his grip was steady.

Brock then bent over, brushing his lips against each of those visible scars. Each kiss from the inside of her arm to her fingertips made Reba's heart ache even more over his acceptance. All too quickly, Reba pulled him into a tight hug as she tried so hard to call out his name as he kissed the top of her head.

"Silly me." She sniffled as he kept a tight grip on her. Suddenly, he realized how scared she must have been that night she found out he was overdosing on his happy pills if he felt one-tenth the fear in this very moment.

"Shhh..." Brock shushed, running his hands down her hair when she momentarily turned to catch his curious expression. Reba simply closed her eyes again, letting the last of her tears run down. Her head was still resting on her shoulder when her lips came up against his, desperate hands drawing his face closer to hers.

"Brock," She hiccuped, interrupting their kiss for just a second, before gingerly whispering, "Please don't leave me again."

"I'll always be here. Promise." He chuckled, massaging her arm securely and solidly.

* * *

Apparently, Brock took the demand literally.

"You're still here." Reba all too quickly noticed their fingers still intertwined, their legs brushing against each other, his face right in front of her. Reba couldn't help but move her other hand against his cheek, hoping that the touch wouldn't wake up Brock.

When she had woken up to the sudden breeze of a December night to adjust her blankets, Reba was warm all over with the fact that Brock laid next to her in her bed even as the sun was peeking up.

They hadn't done this is years, just sleeping next to each other and just being together in the peaceful sanctuary of their room. There was permanence in this simple act, something Reba realized they lacked while having their affair. Her eyes were adjusting to the light as she with one hand pulled the blankets up higher around themselves.

Reba just watched him breathe in and out and she rested her head a little closer to him. Her smile grew even larger as he draped an arm over her waist and suddenly it was easy to fall back to sleep.

**A/N: Okay, I just wanted cute moments for them again, sighs. There's a lot of things happening in this longer chapter, I know, and they will certainly be elaborated but in the meanwhile enjoy and thanks! I must thank you guys for your reviews, keep 'em coming!  
**


	18. Chapter 18

Brock groaned as he utilized his pillows to shut off the loud sounds. He opened one eye and groaned again, grabbing the alarm clock with squinting eyes.

Both eyes opened when he realized he had fallen asleep in Reba's bed and suddenly he noticed that she didn't mind at all. Their hands were still latched together, fingers intertwined loosely. He wished he could lay there a bit longer, despite having been granted the privilege of staying for much longer than usual. It was after all, the first time in about five years that they had spent the whole night together. Brock couldn't take his eyes off of her, letting go of her hand lightly and feeling the sudden heated perspiration on the inside of his palms. He started to trace the scars on her wrist with a sigh, knowing he would do anything to protect her.

"We're back, Mrs. H!" Van was shouting from the downstairs as soon as he waltzed into the living room with the luggage.

"Looks like Dad's keeping Mom company." Cheyenne confusedly peeked out the open door as she noticed the truck sitting in the driveway. A small smile lit on her face as she tickled Elizabeth's belly. Even Elizabeth seemed to know something was exciting about that when her mother was whispering that.

The teen parents were met with Brock himself at the top of the stairs.

"Gwanpa!" Elizabeth articulated, arms reaching out but quickly determining another loved one missing, "Where's gwandma?"

"Hey sweetheart. Your mother's sleeping. She didn't sleep too well." Brock stuck a thumb towards Reba's bedroom at the end of the hallway.

"Mr. H," Van had rushed up to his wife's side on the stairs, water bottle in hand, "What are you doing here?"

"Van." Cheyenne warned, pulling him tightly on the arm,"Come on. We have to get ready for lunch with Eric and Melissa."

"What is your problem, Cheyenne?" Van rubbed his arm, "I thought we were going to _dinner_ with them?"

"Why were you talking to Dad like that?" Cheyenne set Elizabeth into her crib.

"Like what?" Van incredulously remarked.

"You know what I mean." Cheyenne hissed, "You're trying to scare him off."

"Because I want to protect Mrs. H," Van scoffed, "Besides, what is he even doing here upstairs and not to mention, half-dressed in the middle of the day? It's December, oh...OH!"

"Van." Cheyenne started after Van took a moment to shudder.

"So they're getting back together?" Van for the first time, took time to acknowledge the sparks that had been flying between his in-laws. Being in Denver had left him out of the loop and he suddenly felt incredibly protective of his mother-in-law.

"I don't know. No one knows what exactly is going on." Cheyenne shrugged as they both paused at the sound of a very persistent doorbell.

* * *

Meanwhile, the doorbell was persistently ringing and Brock decided to go to the door before whoever it was woke up Reba. Reluctantly, Brock rolled off the bed and just stood for a moment to watch Reba sleep, adjusting the blanket around her.

"Barbra Jean." He placed his hand on the doorway.

"Took you long enough." She eyed his messy hair, wrinkled t-shirt, and boxers and his presence at Reba's place on a Saturday morning.

"When did you ever ring the doorbell?" Brock chuckled, running a hand through his blond hair.

"I couldn't just let myself in." Barbra Jean scoffed as if the answer was obvious, waltzing into the living room, "I mean, your truck's been sitting in Reba's driveway all night. I didn't want to walk in on some bow-chick a-bow-bow. Where's Reba? I need to tell her something!"

"She's sleeping." Brock was flustered at Barbra Jean's assumptions as he followed the blonde to the couch, "She didn't sleep well."

"I can imagine why." Barbra Jean giggled, "But seriously, I neeeeeeed to talk to her."

"'Bout what?"

"I can't tell _you_." Barbra Jean paused her scan of the living room to give Brock a distasteful look.

"Can't tell Dad what?" Kyra entered the living room from the kitchen, holding Henry's hand.

"Kyra! Nothing, sweetie!" Barbra Jean started laughing loudly and unnaturally, "But more importantly, your father's been spending the night here?!"

"Barbra Jean!" Brock exclaimed, looking from ex-wife to daughter. Kyra decided to ignore anything that dealt with what was going on with her parents.

"You were going to tell them about Chip, huh?" The teenager folded her arms.

"Who's Chip?" Brock's shoulders tensed as he heard Reba's voice as she wandered down the stairs. He was seriously hoping Chip was a dog.

"Oh Reba!" Barbra Jean proudly declared, smiling at her stepdaughter." Chip happens to be _Kyra's_ boyfriend."

"Oh Lord." Brock groaned as he collapsed on the couch. He should have gave up on daughters, they were only going to tear a rip in his heart each time they went out with some punk.

"Boyfriend?" Reba's throat went dry, as she pulled her bathrobe tighter around her body as she exchanged a worried look with Brock.

"Mom." Kyra acknowledged her mother's presence.

"I spied on them when he dropped her off last night," Barbra Jean nodded in confirmation, then pointing out another fact, "Although I did specify your curfew was midnight, young lady."

"I thought we agreed her curfew was ten o' clock sharp." Brock confusedly turned to face Barbra Jean.

"Kyra, I thought you told me you were going out with Jenny and Tara," Reba's voice grew stern as she watched the colors from Barbra Jean's face drain.

"Yes, to watch Tara's brother, Chip, and his band perform?" Kyra watched as the logic started to click in the three adults.

"He's in a band?" Brock managed to whimper.

"I remember when I was a groupie." Barbra Jean fondly recalled, then sniffled," Until I got kicked out for becoming their opening act because I knew all the lines to their songs! The other groupies were just jealous."

"But what time did you come home last night?" Reba placed a fist at her hip.

"I don't know, one a.m." Kyra shrugged, watching her mother gasp for words.

"One a.m.?" She finally managed to say. It wasn't like Kyra to do these kind of things.

"Actually, it was closer to two a.m." Barbra Jean seemed to be counting back the time.

"That's it. You're grounded, Kyra." Reba leaped up from leaning against the counter, "No more seeing Mr. Chips Ahoy either!"

"What? I didn't do anything wrong! This is so unfair!" She complained.

"Breaking your curfew? Dating someone from a band? Lying about your plans?" Brock folded his arms, walking to stand behind Reba.

"What's going on, Kyra? This isn't like you." Reba pushed back her bangs in frustration.

"They all start out so innocent. Then one day-" Barbra Jean began until Reba told her to zip it.

"I don't know. Figure out your own lives before you try to figure out mine!" Kyra shouted as she ran for the door.

"I think Kyra's right." The three adults turned to the Cheyenne and Van making their way down the stairs. Cheyenne bit her lip before she made her way to her mother.

"What's going on, Mom?"

"Yeah, what's the deal between you and Mr. H?" Van added in.

Reba could only look at Brock in hesitance. There was no doubt Cheyenne and Van had overheard a lot of the conversation.

"So you asked a boy to play house with you because we were out of town?" Van folded his arms, thinking he was the parent in the situation, "You are going to be in big trouble, young lady."

Reba and Brock rolled their eyes.

"Mom, it's fine that you and Dad are fixing things but I think we deserve to know what's going on." Cheyenne pressed on, the matter of her mother's happiness so important to her," I don't want everything to fall apart and not be able to do anything because the two of you wouldn't tell us what is going on."

"Guys, this is about Kyra right now, that's why Barbra Jean's here." Reba sighed, feeling the riff between she and her daughter growing bigger.

"Well, you heard her. She's obviously acting in rebellion to the two of you pawing each other every other moment." Cheyenne bravely put forward as Reba narrowed her eyes at her.

"I'm curious." Barbra Jean shrugged with a genuine pout on her face.

Reba turned to look at Brock. She guessed she was just going to give a family talk in her ratty bathrobe.

"We'll talk." She nodded, looking to Brock for reassurance. He automatically rested his hand on the small of her back encouragingly, "Let's wait for Jake and Kyra to come home."

Reba needed some time to figure out what exactly the two of them were.

"Good." Van rubbed his hands together, ready to jump into the kitchen for some lunch, "It's about time. Looks like the reason you put for your divorce is actually true, huh Mr. H?"

"What do you mean?" Reba perked.

"Well, Mr. H and Barbra Jean put down you as the reason they got a divorce." Van simply answered as Barbra Jean started to breathe unnaturally and heavily and Brock looked down at his feet.

Cheyenne only shook her head at her husband.

"I wasn't supposed to say that, was I?"

**A/N: This is a bit of a filler chapter, I must confess but you guys deserve an update to see where their romance is turning :P**

**Thanks for reading and review please!**


	19. Chapter 19

The redhead could hardly believe what she was hearing as her head whipped around for one look at Brock's aghast face.

"Let me explain-" Brock was trying to steady her by placing both hands on each arm but she only pried loose.

"You lied to me." She growled through her teeth, chin pointed inwards.

"No, Reba, he didn't," Barbra Jean stood up as Reba looked from Brock to Barbra Jean.

"This is between Brock and me." Reba gritted out, wishing Van and Cheyenne knew when to go out of the room. Her fingers immediately snatched his ear by surprise and pulling hard, she dragged him into the kitchen with her. Her legs were so wobbly at the sudden placement of guilt on her shoulders.

He was still going "Ow, ow, ow," as he rubbed over his red ear.

"You better explain what's goin' on, Brock." Reba's voice lowered to a deadly whisper.

"You have to understand-" He was stuttering for words.

"You're not explaining much." She quipped with a seemingly nonchalant shrug.

"Look, it doesn't even matter." He iterated, voice suddenly calm and serious. She only raised her eyebrows to prompt him to continue, "I mean, did the reason for our divorce matter?"

Reba's eyes only widened in realization of what he was saying and she gave him another slap on the arm.

"I'm sure adultery doesn't matter to you, you liar!" She snapped, as Brock flinched backwards, turning once again into a blubbering fool.

"No, no, no," Brock started, "That's not what I meant! I meant, we don't have to worry about the reasons just you know, what happens in the end."

"That's the stupidest sack of horsefeathers I have ever heard." Reba's tone was biting.

"I'm single, you're single. That's all that matters isn't it?" Brock logically pointed out but Reba only turned away from his glance.

"I don't want to be the reason." She simply remarked, folding her arms against her chest.

"Honey, you're not." He dryly answered, hesitant to near her anymore than he already was.

"It is my fault! I butted in, I didn't try to do anything to stop you two, I wanted you all to myself. I was so selfish." Reba could list a couple of reasons more, but Brock took her around the waist to calm her down. Reba looked him in the eye, now sounding a little hurt, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I knew you were going to react like this." He meekly chuckled, though he was actually relieved that Van couldn't keep his big mouth shut, "And you weren't the reason. I swear."

"Then why is my name involved?" Reba incredulously questioned Brock.

"Because I had already filled it out before Barbra Jean even had Henry." He muttered out.

"What?"

"Yeah, we were on our way to our honeymoon and I suddenly panicked so I called up my lawyer, you know old Ralph. He helped me fill it out but I couldn't tell Barbra Jean at the time that I basically had a lapse of judgement when I started dating her. Every time I tried to bring it up, Barbra Jean was just smiling at me and then she had Henry. And I just sat back. Then when Barbra Jean asked for the divorce, I just mailed in the one I filled out three years ago."

"How do you know wanting a divorce wasn't the lapse in judgement?" Reba had to make sure he was certain of this.

"Barbra Jean is a good wife, she's a good mother to Henry, she's a good person," Brock listed out with all seriousness, as Reba's hart sunk with each compliment to the woman who stole her husband. In fact, she was feeling jealous of her, but Brock's next words brought her back to reality, "But I don't _love_ her. I was just trying to justify myself and make right in all the wrong places."

"But she loves you, I know it." Reba pouted as Brock brushed the hair off her face with another sound of amusement, "And it is all my fault then!"

"No she doesn't love me and no, it isn't your fault. I know that. Brock found himself losing track of whose face they were talking off just by being so mesmerized by Reba being so close to him, "Reba, do you forgive me?"

"For what?" She escaped that penetrating look he was giving her, trying to hide how elated she felt knowing all that she knew now.

"Everything." He choked out, and Reba knew just how unfortunate it would be if they lost each other again. She was so sick, so sick of pushing him away.

"Haven't I already?" She leaned her chin upwards to meet his lips in an anticipated kiss. He tightened his arm around her waist as she draped her arms around his shoulders.

Reba just sank. She was melting, she was falling deeper and deeper into his embrace.

"I'm so sorry I didn't tell you." Brock spoke, breathing hot air into her hair as his grasp around her shoulders grew tighter, "I'm so sorry."

"Brock..." Reba let his kisses travel from forehead to her very lips and suddenly she found herself speechless. She merely pulled him closer to her, her back pressed against the kitchen island.

"Well that sucked." Kyra stood next to her brother-in-law at the entryway between living room and kitchen.

"Big time." Van leaned backwards as he let out a loud scoff, "Where was the part where Mrs. H whupped Mr. H's butt?"

Reba and Brock turned to face the two of them, Reba's cheek pressed against Brock's chest.

"I mean..." Van quickly darted behind them and stuck his head into the fridge, "I just came in because I'm hungry."

"Kyra, you came back." Reba alertly tried to let go of Brock but dizziness took over her just faintly so she stayed in his arms.

"Are you going to have a family meeting or not?" She exasperatedly sighed out.

* * *

"Mom, I'm sure glad we're going to be a family again!" Jake came up to his mother a few moments after the rest of the family had dispersed all around the house, dealing with the fact that Reba and Brock had declared they were going to start taking it slow again.

"I'm sure you're happy your Daddy's going to be around more, aren't you?" Reba ran a hand through that dark hair before pulling the ten year old into a hug. Reba felt her eyes growing teary as she whispered lightly into her youngest child's ear, "I'm so happy too."

Meanwhile, Brock was not having that much luck with his youngest daughter.

"Kyra, you should have told us about Chip." Brock hesitantly approached Kyra, sitting sullenly in the kitchen.

"It's not about Chip!" Kyra rolled her eyes, "I just don't, I don't want you to get back with Mom."

"What?" Brock blinked a few times, "Kyra, sweetie, you heard what your Mom said, we still want to be with each other. And you heard Barbra Jean explain why we wanted to get divorced. "

"It was all bull." Kyra pointed out, "Dad, I know about you and Mom."

"What do you mean?" His throat went dry.

"I mean, I know about the two of you." Kyra talked slower, "Having an affair."

"Oh no, Kyra, baby, that's not true." He didn't mind Kyra knowing that but he knew Reba was going to be mad if that spread around.

"Really? Mom told me." Kyra raised an eyebrow.

"She did?"

"Yeah, she did. And I told her to stop and she didn't even listen to me." Kyra shrugged.

"Oh." Suddenly it all clicked, why Reba had tried to keep her distance when they were both so wrapped up in happiness.

"And what's worse is how you two just lied through the family meeting!" Kyra continued.

"All right." Brock folded his arm, muttering under his breath, "I can't talk to you like this."

"Whatever," Kyra huffed out, before she found herself so vulnerable, "Just don't hurt each other again, okay?"

**A/N: I know updates are getting spread apart farther and farther so I try to make it up with Breba moments but I still have to follow my plot line...so yeah. **

**Thank you again for reading, please review, and fellow writers, please update your stories!**


	20. Chapter 20

Brock suddenly jolted at the touch of a hand on his back, and his hunched body straightened as he turned his head over his shoulder.

"Happy Birthday, honey." He smiled, the forkful of birthday cake dangling in mid-air.

Reba said nothing, there was nothing to say about turning forty five years old. She merely tilted her pouting face to one side, moving closer to Brock as he leaned toward her cheek for a kiss. By a split second, she had moved her face so that his lips landed on her lips, instead of the cheek and Brock finished with surprise glistening in his eyes.

With light amusement, Reba licked off the cake frosting Brock had left on her lips as she patted his back with the hand that was already resting there. And Brock couldn't really comprehend those actions as he watched her walk away to join with the rest of the family.

It really was the best birthday Reba had had in a while. All the kids were there. Barbra Jean cooked up some delicious dishes. Brock was there and he was all hers. He was the only thing she saw when she blowing out those candles and she still had that fuzzy feeling in her heart.

"Why are you still here?" She glanced at the clock, acknowledging how late it was getting.

"I thought you'd need some help cleaning up," He looked down at his plate of leftover cake, contemplating if he could finish a fourth helping.

Reba put her hands at her hips and her expression changed momentarily.

"I don't remember threatening to cut off your allowance." She was barely able to keep a straight face, "Go on. I'll get it in the morning. Besides, Barbra Jean already did most of the dishes already."

"I'm still eating cake." He protested, a little hurt that she was trying to get him out of the house, "Where are the kids? The house is so quiet."

She paused what she was doing, peeking her head over a shoulder for a momentary glance at him.

"They're in their rooms," She hesitantly answered, shrugging her shoulders just a bit. Reba knew she could ask him to stay, but something about it made her heart leap. Perhaps a couple of drinks more, but Reba was sure she was certainly in the mood to celebrate her birthday with just Brock. The sudden sharp voice in her head telling her to get over herself made her react too quickly, "Brock?"

"Hmm?" He disposed of the paper plate with wide eyes at her.

"I-uh-never mind."

"Okay?" He dried his hands on a towel before walking over to her. Taking her face with two hands, he gently but intensely pulled her head toward to him. He kissed the top of Reba's head, breathing in deep before wrapping his arms tightly around her neck to rest his cheek where he had just kissed. Brock whispered, "Good night, Red. I'm going back to the condo now."

"Drive safely," She played with the belt buckle on his pants before he let go of her.

They could only stare into each other's eyes, hoping for the other one to say something to break the unusually awkward distance between them at that moment.

"I love you, sweetheart." Brock reached for his corduroy jacket, ready to head out the door.

"I-" She mouthed before gulping. Reba wanted to repeat those words but having been hurt once before kept a heavy guard in her heart. She was squirming all over but when quickly regained her composure.

He turned for another glance at her, unaware of Reba's personal turmoils when he returned her wide grin.

"Well, good night." He touched the back of her hand, "I'll call you."

"Brock." She hurried after him, pounding him against the kitchen door, "You don't have to go."

She hated it. She hated how much she needed him and she hated how much she was showing it. One of the reasons Brock left in the first place was because she was always nagging and Reba just didn't want to be too clingy, lest they realize they were just around each other too much. But lately, she needed him a lot but Brock gladly reciprocated those ideas.

"Really?" He murmured, eyes dancing to catch every feature of her bashful face. He slipped his arms around her waist and gave her a soft kiss on the lips. She deepened the kiss, stumbling onto the kitchen stool as Brock's hands traveled down to the back of her thighs. Reba fumbled with the jacket until it fell to the ground and all too synchronized it seemed, her arms linked around his neck as he scooped her up in his arms with a chuckle, "It's almost midnight, birthday girl."

"Come on, then, you old orange pumpkin." She giggled against his chest, her own face turning red.

* * *

Brock and Reba didn't sleep much on nights like these and the sunsets never seemed more beautiful.

"It's perfect." She rested her head on the cold window pane, feeling shivers go up her bare legs. She was in love with the man and she could finally show it. Her birthday wish had come true, as silly a wish she thought it to be.

"Come back to bed." The warm blankets wrapped around her body and she turned to smile at Brock before looking down at her borrowed attire. His button down shirt was messily thrown on her frame.

"I don't wanna sleep." She shrugged her shoulders, involuntarily pulling the blanket around her.

"It's like everything's changed," Reba elaborated, "But I'm okay with it."

"What do you mean?" He furrowed his brows.

"I don't know." Reba lost her breath when she caught his eyes staring right into hers. She reached out her hand to clasp his.

"Everything's the same between us." Brock wrapped his other arm reassuringly around her shoulder as she laid her head against his chest.

And they stayed that way for a while.

* * *

"You look so sexy like that." He observed, half dressed as he realized Reba was still wearing his shirt.

"We have to go to work." She smirked, catching his eyes on her and knowing exactly what he was thinking. Brock was making his way over to her, snaking those strong arms around her waist securely as his lips pressed against the back of her neck as Reba snuggled closer to the warmth of his body.

"I'm going to need my shirt back," He breathed against her ear, reaching for the buttons and undoing each one slowly. His fingers lightly brushed against her stomach and the electric jolts were keeping her widely alert.

"Brock..." Reba's voice was cautionary, almost scolding, as she pushed off his arms.

"What?" He nonchalantly proclaimed, eyes reluctant to catch what Reba was looking at but he failed. Guiltily he lowered his gaze towards where Reba was staring with raised eyebrows; it was his pants or rather what was underneath the pants. Mischievously, he winked, "Do you wanna?"

"No." Reba shook her head as Brock edged toward her. He knew her well enough to know that he was already winning. It certainly was hard to stop once they got started, "Brock, it's almost seven, we barely slept all night-"

"I'm going to need my shirt back anyways," He shrugged, catching the sight of skin against fabric as he came closer to the redhead. Brock had her trapped, two firm hands pressed against the wall looking straight into Reba's clouded face, "What do you say?"

As their eyes locked in some expression of mild fierceness, Brock felt a tug to which Reba only laughed at.

She had her hands wrapped around the buckle of the belt, sliding it slowly out of the loops with gentle tugs. Only when she felt the belt get stuck did she suddenly feel frustration. She yanked at it until the belt had broken, and she burst out laughing as she held up the buckle of the belt to his face.

"Well now you broke it." He mumbled as she met his lips in another hurried kiss.

"I know," She broke the kiss momentarily, "We'll just have to stay in here all day."

"Pleasure's all mine." He murmured, as wrapped a leg around him to pull him closer to her.

"Stop talking and keep kissin'," She grumbled, kissing him before he could respond any further.

Reba's hands flew around his neck and too distracted by Brock, the broken belt had fallen to the ground behind him.

**A/N: A shorter chapter yes, but I hope you guys are satisfied nonetheless! Please leave a review and I thank you guys as always for reading! **


	21. Chapter 21

"What are you doing here?" It was Reba's last client of the day and when she walked into the conference room, she didn't think it was going to be Brock Hart.

"Come here." He motioned her to him with a finger and Reba promptly shut the door behind her giddily. She had barely made her way over to the other side of the table when Brock had placed his hands delicately around her waist, fingers digging into her sides, and the last thing she saw was his face nearing hers as she closed her eyes in anticipation.

"Brock…" She mumbled against his soft lips, fighting the urge to wrap her arms around his neck, "I'm pretty sure there are security cameras all over here."

"That's never stopped you before," He suggestively mentioned as she let out a scoff. Reba elbowed him softly in the stomach as she moved her hands over the portfolios on the wooden table.

"Sit down." She slid into the chairs as Brock followed suit. She interlocked her fingers as she watched Brock just smiling, the same genuine happy Brock she knew for so many years before everything went wrong, "So what's up."

"I am thinking of selling…" Brock paused, eyes wide open, "My condo."

"I see." Reba nodded slowly in comprehension, biting her lower lip, "Where are you planning to live?"

"Well I was thinking of," His voice grew lower and lower, realizing too soon that his little surprise was not going to ride well with Reba. Before he could continue, Barbra Jean barged into the office with worry written all over his face.

"Reba!" She urgently darted into the room, her attention caught on Brock sitting next to Reba. She took deep breaths, "Oh. They said you were in a meeting right now."

"What's going on?" Reba confusedly turned to face Brock.

"Can I have a moment with you?" Barbra Jean danced from toe to toe as Reba nodded, placing the pen she was fiddling with on the table.

"Sure, Brock and I just finished!" Reba pertly remarked as she sprung up from her seat.

"No, we're not." Brock gritted through his teeth.

"Yes we are," She turned to glare at him with lowered eyes with a snarl as he groaned.

"I'll see you later." He touched her waist before lightly kissing her and Reba found herself turning red. She forgot all about public displays of affection, and in front of Barbra Jean, it was certainly something else.

"So Barbra Jean, why brings you here?" Reba watched Barbra Jean take a seat where Brock was sitting.

"It's about Kyra." Barbra Jean began as Reba's heart pounded faster.

"What? Is she okay?" Reba gripped on the wooden armrests of her chair tightly.

"She's fine." Barbra Jean leaned back in the chair casually, "I'm just not sure she told you but she's set on staying with me."

"Oh." Reba recollected a day or two ago, when she approached Kyra whether she was thinking to move back home.

"She still loves you, you know?" Barbra Jean watched Reba let out a big sigh.

"We're growing apart." Reba's eyes were growing red at the thought of it.

"You don't hate me right?" Somehow Barbra Jean had sensed Reba would take this harder than she took stealing her man.

"Of course I don't," Reba sighed.

"She'll come back to you!" Barbra Jean obliviously answered, "Brock did."

"Kyra doesn't want to move back," Reba repeats to herself before she turned to look at Barbra Jean, suddenly so self conscious, "But Brock does."

* * *

"We need to talk." Reba walked into the house, catching Brock hanging ornaments on the tall Christmas tree.

"No kidding." Brock mumbled, refusing to make eye contact, "I was trying to tell you something and you didn't even care."

"I get it. I was being a bitch." Reba frowned, walking to stand behind Brock with her hands on her hips, "Now come on, let's talk."

"Do you not trust me or something?" Brock moved the box of ornaments from his lap to the floor.

"Brock." Reba quietly warned.

"It took a lot to ask you that, you know?" Brock finally turned around to glance at Reba, so that she could see all the hurt resting in his eyes.

"I know." Reba put her arm around his shoulders as she slid on his lap.

"It's just…" She rested her forehead against his shoulder, letting her other arm drape around his shoulder.

"I get it. We're not ready."

"No. No, it's not that." Reba looked up and shook her head quickly, "I just need to know. Brock, I mean, the thing that tied us together was broken. Can something like that really be repaired."

"You mean trust." He mumbled, running his hand slowly down her back.

"No, it's not only that." Reba sadly shook her head.

"There's nothing to repair!" Brock declared, "Nothing's broken."

"You don't understand, Brock." Reba tried to get off his lap but he kept his grip. The next thing she knew, he was kissing her.

"We've changed, Brock." The redhead finally realized.

"No, we haven't!" Brock started to stand up, feeling a sharp pain for standing up too quickly, "At least, I haven't."

"What is that supposed to mean?" The way he had said it, as if change was bad, stuck with Reba.

"I mean, what do you think we are? You're Reba and I'm Brock. We aren't just going to stay friends. I need you."

"I never-"

"Save the comments for later," Brock gripped her by the shoulder, knowing her so well, "What am I to you, Reba?"

"You're…" Everything. She wanted to scream that but too much time in the car listening to wispy Christmas carols made her think way too clearly, "I don't want to fight."

All this fighting, all this confusion when he knew so well he had made a horrid mistake in leaving her. Brock just wished she could realize faster that love conquers all.

"Reba-" His voice softened, for the words she had uttered were certainly a first.

"I just need to be alone right now." Reba clenched her fists, watching Brock's reaction.

"You don't need me around." Brock shrugged, contemplating the way he had to beg his way back to her side and she was still pondering whether to accept this blinding happiness or not.

"Brock-," I want you to stay. How was it so hard for her to say so? And so Brock interrupted her once more.

"I'll call you." He looked into her eye, once again dumbfounded by the brilliant woman in front of him.

"Okay." She mouthed and the two fumbled about for one kiss more. There was something very passionate about the way Brock was kissing her, moving his hands through her red hair as she pulled him closer to her body. Reba never felt so much warmth and she wished her mind could comprehend the same way her body did in reaction to Brock.

But the thought wasn't going to leave her mind. Was the connection between them just too severed to function properly anymore. She certainly wasn't feeling the same sense of security with Brock. Then again, Reba had never took time to appreciate the maturity and comfort Brock had these days.

"I love you." He was already darting out the door and Reba's heart ached even more, knowing he wasn't even going to pause for her nonexistent reply. What was happening between them?

"_I love you too_." She whispered to a closed door, before she turned to look at the star on top of the Christmas tree, hoping the two of them could figure out just exactly what was going on between them.

And just like that, a sense of premonition gave her chills over losing him.

* * *

"Mom?" Reba's eyes slowly opened to see Kyra walking toward her bedside hesitantly.

"Kyra sweetie." She noticed the fear in her expression. The lights flicked on and Reba sat up from the bed, pushing the hair off of her face.

"You weren't picking up your phone," Kyra scanned the room in vain for the cell phone.

"I was just taking a nap," Reba rubbed her eyes with a yawn before patting on the bed, "What's up, Kyra?"

"Mom, I didn't come to talk." Kyra huffed out, folding her arms as Reba leaned forward attentively.

"What do you mean?"

"It's Dad."

"…"

"Dad got in a car accident."

"What?"

"I said, Dad got into a really bad car accident and he's in the hospital right now. "

**A/N: dun dun dun. Happy Halloween guys. I hope this chapter wasn't so hard to read because my editing skills are seriously affected by candy right now. Well, thanks for reading as usual and give me another treat-a review please! **


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